


A Charmed Life

by doctorkilljoy



Series: Charmed, I'm Sure [1]
Category: Bandom, Black Cards, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Gym Class Heroes, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Magic, Anal Sex, Bandom Big Bang, Deception, Emotional Baggage, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non Consensual Magic Use, fatphobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12122112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkilljoy/pseuds/doctorkilljoy
Summary: Pete Wentz is a famous Charmer with a great talent for poetry magic. He's widely known for his books on the subject, and teaches classes to those who wish to learn. He even owns his own bookstore and cafe, Prince Charmer's. Despite success, his life is tedious. Until a musician comes in one day, asking for work. A musician named Patrick Stump.They're from different worlds, Pete's magical, and Patrick's Banal. How long can Pete keep magic a secret from Patrick, and what will happen when Patrick finds out?





	A Charmed Life

**Author's Note:**

> This scene came about because... I dunno it was a stupid idea then I was worried it was a Harry Potter rip off and not really caring in that regard. Of course the problem is that this stemmed from one of the many many problems I had with Harry Potter. Namely that you had to be born to do magic rather than learn it.
> 
> This nearly killed me because I lost my job, my home, moved 200 miles, got a new job and a new home between when I started this fic and when I finished it (which was mid September). It's been a crazy year so far and I'm very tired. I am pleased with how this turned out, even though it's completely different from what I intended.
> 
> Thank you to [withinmelove](.) for doing the beta on this one. And thanks again to [kymellin](.) for being cheerleader, and everyone who's been so kind to me on this project as I ranted and raved about how it would never be finished. 
> 
> Most of all, thank you to [das-velorene-kind](.) for the BEAUTIFUL artwork for this story, which can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12284940)

It was a quiet day in the store. It was always quiet on Tuesdays, and busy every other day of the week at Prince Charmer's. Which annoyed Pete, as he hated not having something to do. It was easier to keep himself level if there was work he could throw himself into. He couldn't play around on Instagram like Vicky, or read like Gabe. Sometimes he would try to write, but that never went well. He was pretty sure the store was cursed, but he'd checked and couldn't find any traces of one.

Pete was staring out the window, the sunlight made silver by an overcast day. He contemplated going home, but that would leave Brendon in charge of the books. Gabe could handle the cafe, but the books needed special tending. Pete liked Brendon, and thought he showed great promise. But the last time Brendon was left in charge, Pete had returned to find a cranky gnome in the customer bathroom, and a lost group of water sprites hiding in the espresso machine. It had taken ages to set everything to rights again, and Brendon had been close to tears, apologizing profusely.

It wasn’t Brendon’s fault, one of the books had tricked him. Pete blamed himself for not keeping that particular one locked up. Ryan didn’t let it go, however, and loved teasing him about it. Brendon would blush and hide in the stockroom for an hour whenever someone brought the incident up. It wasn’t malicious teasing, of course, Brendon knew that. And Pete sure wouldn’t stand for it if that were the case. But he was was fun to tease, and it was one of the few things he was embarrassed about.

Pete glanced at Ryan, who was stocking the shelves with all the enthusiasm of a five year old watching the weather Channel. His brown hair was hanging in his face, and he kept reaching up to tuck it behind his ears. Of course, it wasn't long enough yet that it would stay.

"Hey, cover the register, I need some coffee," said Pete.

"Oh yes, of course. That line of customers obviously need help ringing up their piles of books," Ryan teased. Pete flipped him off and got up. He gave Ryan the register key as they passed each other, and Pete weaved through the shelves until he found himself in the cafe. It was practically deserted, except of course for Vicky and Gabe.

Vicky was wiping down the tables, occasionally stopping to pull up her shirt, or adjust her apron. She waved at Pete as he came in, then pulled her phone out of her pocket. She said, "Smile!" To Pete, and took a picture. He chuckled and waved a bit, then went to the counter.

Gabe was seated on the stool behind it, flipping through one of his favorite books. It was the most worn out copy of Philosophies of Circe that Pete had ever seen, and he was sure Gabe knew it by heart. But without fail, when they were slow, that's what Gabe was reading. Pete said, "I need a latte, with a shot of alertness and two drops of serenity."

"You sure?" Gabe asked. "You were pretty jittery after last time."

"That's what the serenity is for, should counterbalance enough of the alertness that there's no jitter, and I'll be awake and aware," Pete countered.

"You're the boss." Gabe went to make the latte, and said, "I hate Tuesdays."

"Me too. I'm kind of tempted to close from now on but then we'd be out three days of the week." Pete hopped up onto one of the counter stools, making a face as he nearly fell off it. Gabe laughed.

"I think we should just close Mondays and Tuesdays instead." Gabe had finished the latte, and had moved over to the potions bar. He had a stir rod at the ready as he added bits of potion to the drink.

"Do you really want to be here on a Sunday?" Pete asked, rolling his eyes. "It's even more dead on Sundays than it is now!"

"Not all the time. Remember when that group of little old ladies were desperate to get in here?"

Pete laughed, shaking his head. "That doesn't count! They were hags! They'd have stolen everything that wasn't nailed down if we'd let them in!"

Gabe shrugged, and after putting a cap on the latte he passed it over. Pete sipped it, and smiled. One thing Gabe had always been good at was mixing drinks. From potions to cocktails, if it was liquid, Gabe could make it perfectly. Pete was about to compliment him, when the chime above the door sounded. They both looked over as a man walked in.

He wore a hat, glasses, and carried a guitar case. He was looking around as though he were lost. But then he spotted Vicky and went straight to her. Vicky was grinning as she waved, and pulled him into a hug. They were laughing, though too far away for either Pete or Gabe to hear what they were saying.

"You know him?" Pete queried.

"Nope, I was gonna ask if you did," said Gabe.

Vicky took the man's arm, and escorted him over to the counter.

As they approached, Pete got a good look at him. He was short, even shorter than Pete. His skin was so pale Pete wondered if he was part vampire. However, he'd never seen a vampire that needed glasses. He was on the chubby side, with a slight double chin, a round belly, and thick thighs. He had generous plush lips, and gorgeous blue eyes. Pete hoped that he was single, as there was not a thing about him that wasn't appealing.

"Uh, hey," he said. "I'm Patrick, I was wondering if you guys had any gigs available?"

Pete stared at him blankly, he was so struck by Patrick's good looks he forgot to speak. Gabe smacked his shoulder, which brought Pete back from a fantasy land involving Patrick and a naughty game of charades. "Oh! Uh… Hey, I’m Pete. This is Gabe.  What kinda gig are you looking for?"

"Just a place I can play my guitar for a few hours. I need some extra cash," said Patrick.

"Is it like, a special guitar?" Pete asked. He didn't feel anything obviously Charmer about Patrick. Most Charmers gave off a sort of signal to others, what Banals would call a "vibe". Pete wasn't getting anything from Patrick, so he assumed whatever magic he practiced was either very weak, or very subtle.

Patrick looked confused by the question, and he shook his head. "No, it's a pretty standard Gibson acoustic. I could play something for you guys?"

Pete was getting more confused by the minute. But this was going to break up what had been a very dull day, so he wasn't about to say no. Plus Patrick was hot, so there was no way Pete could turn him down. He felt he had an obligation to listen to him play, if it would get him Patrick's number. "Yeah, go for it."

Patrick stepped away, gently laying his guitar case on one of the tables. By this time, Brendon and Ryan had come to see what poor soul had wandered in. When they spotted the guitar case, Ryan smirked. Brendon grinned and clasped his hands together in excitement.

When Pete looked back at Patrick, he'd slung the guitar on, and for some reason removed his glasses. There was a slight tremble in his hands, and Pete raised an eyebrow. Patrick was clearly nervous, so why play for them? Vicky was standing by Pete and Gabe, and she said quietly, "Listen, he's good. VERY good."

Pete was going to ask what she meant, but then Patrick started playing. Pete didn't know the song, but it was beautiful. It had a playful rhythm to it, but there were some dark undertones. Amazingly, they melded together into something Pete couldn't describe. But it made him think of the silver skies outside, with sunshine breaking through on occasion. It was pleasant rather than ominous. When Patrick finished playing, everyone clapped. Pete was applauding the loudest.

Patrick's face flushed. He put his guitar away, and pulled his glasses back on. Pete went up to him, saying, "That was amazing!" And  shook his hand, which was when Pete knew. There was no spark when their auras connected, not like there should have been. Patrick didn't have subtle or weak magic, he had no magic whatsoever. He was a Banal.

Pete recovered quickly, and he asked, "Do you have an album?"

"No. I'm trying to save up to buy some studio time. All I've got is an EP I recorded on my computer," Patrick said to him. He briefly lifted his hat up, to sweep strawberry blonde hair out of his face. Then Patrick jammed it back down as fast as he could.

"I'd love to buy your album when you release one," Pete said fervently, and Gabe was nodding.

"Hell yeah! You're gonna need to make copies for all of us!"

Brendon and Ryan had crossed the room as well, introducing themselves and saying how much they’d loved it. Everyone was paying compliments to Patrick, which seemed to surprise the hell out of him. Pete asked, "When are you available to play?"

"Uh...Every day after three," said Patrick. "I have school until then."

"School? What kinda school?" Ryan asked him. His arms were crossed over his stomach lazily, and his eyebrow was quirked with curiosity.

"DePaul University, I'm in their music program." Patrick was still smiling, but he looked more nervous than before. Like he wasn't used to being the center of attention. Pete thought that was strange, but filed it away for later.

"Terrific. Come in on Thursday, you can play for a few hours. We have a stage," said Pete, pointing to the far corner. It was close to the books, and in shadow. They hadn't used it in ages, but Pete was more than willing to change that. He wanted to hear more of Patrick's music, and maybe he'd be a draw for them. He'd have to discuss a few things with the others though, once Patrick left.

"Oh! Uh, great! Definitely, I'll be here!" Patrick said, and he was now grinning.

“Why don’t you give me your number?” Pete was grinning in return. “We can talk more about your fees and other days you can come in.”

Vicky withdrew a notebook and pen from her apron pocket, and handed them to Patrick. He quickly wrote down his number, and Pete had already snatched up a napkin and stolen Gabe’s pen to do the same. They exchanged the slips of paper, and Patrick picked up his guitar case. “Call me any time if you have any questions.”

“Absolutely, and thank you!” Still smiling, Patrick left the cafe.

“Fees huh? Don’t think I’ve heard you use that line before,” Gabe teased.

“Shut up,” Pete shot back. “How did he even know about this place? We’re supposed to be warded.” It was something Pete had designed in the beginning of the store. He’d gotten damn lucky to find some prime Chicago real estate for Prince Charmer’s, but it was in a heavily Banal district. So he’d cast a spell on the building, which he owned. You either had to be magical, or already know where Prince Charmer’s was. It was the only way to keep a Banal from stumbling upon it accidentally.

“I told him.”

Pete turned to look at Vicky, who shrugged and said, “I saw him playing at a subway station for spare change. I figured he could use a break.”

“What’s the big deal, Pete? He’s good. Like, scary good. I thought he was a siren when he started,” said Brendon.

“He’s not a Charmer. Definitely a Banal,” said Pete. Everyone exchanged grim looks, and Pete knew they were thinking the same thing he was. He could still see it. Blonde hair, and cheeks red and wet from crying and yelling. However, Gabe spoke up.

“Big fucking deal. We can have Ryan glamour him and he’ll never know the difference between this place and a Barnes and Noble.” Gabe hopped up on the counter, sitting on the edge. “Look, Brendon’s right. He’s scary good, we could use him. He’d be a big draw in the evenings when it's slow.”

“If a giant comes in though, that’s gonna have to be one hell of a glamour. I say have him play the one show then get rid of him,” Ryan said.

“Maybe we won’t have to get rid of him? He could be cool about… It.” Brendon gestured around the store. With its poorly hidden potion rack, bookshelves that moved on occasion, fairies that flit in and out, plants that suddenly grew out of nowhere… And that was on a quiet day.

“No way. We really don’t need a repeat of the Daisy Incident. That fae is still pretty pissed at us,” Ryan pointed out.

Pete closed his eyes, and rubbed them. He knew Ryan was right. If Patrick took it badly and had a public meltdown… But Pete couldn’t think about that. He liked Patrick, he had an amazing talent and Pete wanted to learn more about him. Plus he’d already hired him and Pete would feel like an asshole if he turned around and fired him.

“We’ll try it out for a few weeks,” Pete concluded. “Ryan you’re on glamour duty while he’s here.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “I want a raise.”

“Fine.”

Gabe grinned and clapped his hands together. “This is gonna be fun.”

* * *

 Pete had to admire his own restraint. He'd wanted to start calling and texting Patrick the minute he got his phone number. Instead, he managed to wait until the next morning. He started out all business, about how much Patrick would want to be paid, what nights he would work, that sort of thing. But then it devolved into a conversation about several subjects, mostly music and some movies. Pete was in the middle of correcting Patrick’s extraordinarily wrong opinion on Star Wars, when he heard a throat clear beside him.

He looked up to see Bebe sitting next to him, and she asked, “Plan on joining us any time soon?”

Pete finished the text, added, “u got me in trbl bbl” and put his phone away. “Sorry,” he said.

She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder, chuckling. “Hey, this is your workshop. If we’re making this a weekly thing then you’re gonna have to take the lead.”

“Yeah I know.” Pete looked and saw they’d been joined by some of their regulars, along with a host of new faces Pete didn't recognize, but that was no surprise. Everyone was welcome to the evening workshops, so long as they had an open mind and obeyed the rules. One of which was no phones out, but Pete broke that rule so frequently he usually forgot it existed.

“Thanks for coming,” said Pete. “For those of you joining us for the first time, I’m Pete, this is Bebe. As you probably know, this is a workshop involving poetry magic. Now I know a lot of people would say that poetry is a magic in and of itself, and they’re right. But of course, there’s more to it.”

He paused for dramatic effect, and because he loved to see the curious and excited looks on their faces. He could see Brendon sitting in the back with his notebook, writing furiously like he always did. Pete smiled, and continued.

“Poetry is of course something that has both strict and loose definitions, so you really need to find a system that works for you. I for example prefer a more lyrical format, while Bebe likes to write stuff that’s more rhythmic. Neither system is wrong, that’s what works best for each of us individually. Now who here has worked with poetical magic before?”

Several people raised their hands, including Brendon. Pete was tempted to call on him for an example, but he didn't want to give the appearance of favoritism. Instead he pointed at a tall guy who’s name he vaguely knew. “You, what kind of poetry do you use for your magic?”

“I rap,” the guy replied. Pete thought his name was Travie, he wasn't sure.

“Would you like to give us an example?”

Travie stood, the chains around his neck jingling. He looked around for a moment, and Brendon grinned at him and shot a thumbs up. Travie smiled back, then began to rap out what Pete was sure was an awesome spell. He could feel energy gathering around Travie, and the other Charmers in the room looked on in admiration. But he released it just as quickly with an exhale, and a wave of his hand. Several people applauded as he took his seat again, and Pete grinned.

“That was perfect. As you can see that’s a very unique style, but still effective. So whether you’re into epic poetry or dirty limericks, so long as it works for you, it can be used to perform magic. Now Bebe’s gonna pass out the schedule for this workshop, and I’d like for everyone to take about ten minutes to look it over. Then we’ll open the floor up to a Q&A.”

Several people looked very excited at the prospect, but then Bebe spoke up and added, “This will NOT be about Pete or his books. If that’s the reason you’re here please leave. This is a serious work shop, not a fan event. If you are interested in fan events please go to the Prince Charmer’s website for more information.”

About twelve people, each looking embarrassed or angry, got up and walked out of the store, mumbling to each other. The workshop was greatly reduced, which Pete did find a tad disappointing. But he was glad to see there were still people in seats. There was a time not long ago they’d tried having discussion nights for poetic magic, and the store was overrun with Charmers who just wanted to meet Pete.

It wasn't as though he was difficult to meet. He was in the store every day, and he loved talking to fans. When his first spell book had been released, it had been considered revolutionary. While word magic was well known, little to nothing had been explored when it came to poetry magic. Most assumed that meant simply making sure the lines rhymed, when there was much more to it.

Pete had spent three years painstakingly researching and practicing every single spell he wrote for the book. He covered everything a young Charmer might want in a spell book, from petty revenge to glamours to hide pimples. A few had thought it was incredibly immature, and more than one crusty old holier than thou wizard had looked their nose down at Pete. But the book had been a wild success, not just with teenagers but with their parents as well.

He had followed up with two more books, the royalties from which allowed him to achieve his dream. He purchased the building that now housed Prince Charmer’s years ago, and once his book shop was on the rise in the Chicago Charmer scene, he’d never written another book.

Sure, people would ask him when the next one was coming out. And Pete did have one in the works. But it was slow going, as he’d been in a pretty bad place when he’d started writing in the first place. Pete didn’t like to think about it, especially as he was happier nowadays. That darkness had been his motivator, and with it gone he was having to relearn how to write. It was a process, which was why when people asked, “When is the next book coming out?” He’d smile, shrug, and say, “Eventually.”

Pete was drawn out of his thoughts by Bebe poking him in the shoulder. “You okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” said Pete. “Thanks, by the way. I completely forgot about that.”

“It’s cool. If you'd said it, you probably would have looked like an asshole. So better me than you.”

“Yeah, I’m already an asshole, but we don’t need everyone else knowing that,” Pete said, and she laughed.

“You got me there. Ready?”

“Let’s do this.”

They opened the floor to questions, most of which were pretty standard. How did this differ from chanting, was it more or less effective than potion making, and one person asked, “Would you be able to combine this with song magic?”

Pete shrugged. “Possibly. Most people do tend to keep them separate, but as lyrics are another form of poetry, in theory you could combine it with song magic.”

“That is however a theory that hasn't been fully tested, so it won’t come up during this workshop,” Bebe reminded him, and Pete nodded.

“She’s right. This is to teach the basics rather than to explore magical combinations. Now for those of you who have already been working with poetry magic, we ask for your patience as we help the new people get started, and might even ask you to help them with their techniques. Once everyone’s on about the same level, we’ll work on refining your methods. The goal of this workshop is to get everyone comfortable with the medium, and once that’s done we’ll be doing something very special.”

Bebe smiled as she said, “The last assignment for this workshop will to be to write a short collection of spells. We’ll have ten categories which the spells can fall under, such as love, success, protection, conjuring, and so on. You can write either one spell per category, or ten spells for one, whichever you like.”

“Which is going to lead up to performing what you feel is your very best spell for everyone here,” Pete pointed out. He could see a few people looking around nervously, and Pete made a mental note to talk with them in private. Some people didn't like to work magic in public, and he had to be mindful of that.

“Were there any further questions?” Bebe asked. A few people raised their hands, and she smiled and continued on. Pete had said everything he wanted to, he was done for the evening. He was glad he had a friend like Bebe, who could recognize the rare times when Pete Wentz had talked enough for one day.

Before he knew it, someone was tapping him on the shoulder. It was Brendon, holding his notebook and smiling. “Class is over, boss.”

Pete smiled back. “You learn anything?”

“Yeah, that Travie guy is awesome!” Brendon enthused, then blushed. “Also you're pretty cool too. You're still my favorite.”

“I pay your salary, I better be your favorite,” Pete teased, and Brendon laughed.

Most of the people had left, except for Lolo who was helping Bebe put chairs away, and two guys standing by the door having what looked like an intense discussion. Pete frowned, got up, and walked over to them. “Everything all right fellas?”

“Can poetry be used in rhythm magic?” One guy asked. He had a red scruffy beard and was damned muscular, but he had a high voice and was about Pete’s height.

“Uh… I don't know. I haven't tried it,” Pete admitted. His friend, who had bushy hair and large round eyes, was pursing his lips as though annoyed.

“I still don't think it’s a good idea,” said the friend.

“I’m almost a hundred percent sure it could work.” The redhead muttered.

“Let’s just learn the poetry first then move to the stupid experiment, okay?” The guy held his hand out to Pete. “I’m Joe by the way, this is Andy.”

Pete shook both their hands. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“You too, see you next class!” Joe said, and he and Andy left. Brendon, Lolo, and Bebe were right behind them. Pete waved them out and smiled.

* * *

 It had been a rousing success. Pete still couldn’t believe how well things had worked out. Patrick had been a bundle of nerves, and so had Pete though for completely different reasons. While he knew that Ryan’s glamour power was formidable, it wasn’t fool proof. Thankfully, Brendon was a total genius, and Pete had almost kissed him for it.

“Why don’t you boost the glamour with a curse?” Brendon asked. The five of them had been gathered together before the store opened, making a game plan for that afternoon.

“Uh, because we LIKE Patrick?” Victoria replied, and Brendon squirmed a bit.

“What kinda curse are you talking about, B?” Gabe asked.

Brendon took a book out of his messenger bag, and said, “I was reading this last night. It says you can curse a person so that they’re blind to magic. I thought…” He trailed off as everyone stared at him. “Um, nevermind.”

“Let me see that,” said Pete, taking the book from him. Pete flipped to the page Brendon had marked, then read through the curse. It was simple, and even better, short. “I think you’re onto something here. We’d just need to change a couple things, and use Ryan’s glamour as a binding agent. He’ll be none the wiser.”

“You think so?” Brendon asked.

“Yeah, hang on,” Pete grabbed a notebook and pen, then wrote down the spell with the required changes. He then handed it to Gabe and asked, “Think you can make this?”

Gabe looked it over, then said, “I can but I’m a little hesitant to give that much widow root to a Banal.”

“It’s the only way to make the glamour permanent,” Pete replied.

“I think we should have a fail safe,” Victoria added. “In case there’s a dangerous situation that pops up. If a troll comes in it won’t do any good for Patrick to be blind to magic if he’s dead.”

“Hm,” Ryan read over Victoria’s shoulder. “I can tweak the glamour to fade if Patrick’s life is in danger, though you’d need to decrease the amount of iron tears.”

“I would need some star seeds then, and I’m fresh out of those,” Gabe pointed out.

“I can grow some!” Brendon volunteered, and Pete grinned.

“All right. Brendon, get started on that. Ryro, construct the glamour, make sure it can be housed in something small but breakable. Gabe, you’re on potion duty. Vicky, I’m gonna need you to run interference when Patrick gets here so that he doesn’t figure out what we’re up to. And if you could consult the mists for me about him, that’d be great. Everyone clear?”

“Don’t fucking call me Ryro,” Ryan grumbled, but went to do as Pete said.

“And what are you going to do?” Brendon asked.

“Make a goodwill gesture,” Pete replied, but wouldn’t tell them anything more. By the time Patrick arrived, they were ready to roll. Thankfully, the cafe was empty, though there were a few customers browsing in the bookstore. Victoria did distract Patrick, while Ryan quietly slipped behind him, leaving a small bead on the floor. Of course, Patrick stepped on it, and it crunched under his foot.

“What was that?” Patrick asked, and Victoria chuckled.

“Probably a Cheerio. Someone's kid was flinging them around earlier and we haven’t gotten them all yet. Hey, you want a drink?”

“I didn’t bring any money with me,” said Patrick, sounding embarrassed.

“No need, you work here now so drinks are free,” said Pete, smiling at Patrick as he walked up.

“Oh, uh… In that case, I’ll just have some tea,” said Patrick.

“What kind do you want?” Gabe called out from behind the counter.

“Green?” Patrick asked, and Gabe smiled.

“Coming right up.”

Patrick was looking around, an eyebrow raised. “Doesn't seem to be a lot of people around.”

“That’ll change in about a half hour,” Pete assured him. “We’re having a lull but once the kids are out of school and people are off work it’ll pick up.”

Patrick nodded, but the news didn't seem to please him. He was biting his lip, and a slight sheen of sweat had appeared on his chin. Pete frowned and asked, “What is it?”

“Nothing!” Patrick said, far too quickly. He then sighed and added, “Just stage fright.”

Victoria slipped her arm around Patrick’s, guiding him over to the stage. “Don't be afraid. You're gonna do great. I’m sure of it.”

Patrick snorted. “I doubt it.”

Pete had followed after them, and he said, “Nah, don't even worry about it. You’re going to be amazing and everyone is gonna love you. Scout’s honor.”

“I doubt you were ever a Boy Scout,” Patrick said, chuckling with disbelief.

Pete gasped, hand to his chest, mock offended. “I will have you know I could have been an Eagle Scout.”

“Yeah if you hadn't been kicked out of the scouts for burning down your own tent,” Gabe interjected, then handed Patrick his tea. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” he replied, then climbed up on the stage. “Uh, could you guys give me a few minutes?”

“Sure thing,” Victoria said to Patrick, then grabbed Pete and Gabe’s arms and dragged them away. Pete couldn't help looking over his shoulder though as he sipped the tea. Pete could tell the minute the spell activated, a silver wisp of smoke went into Patrick’s eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. He sighed in relief, then looked at the others.

“What did you see?” Pete asked.

Victoria shrugged. “The mists say he’ll be a great success, but there is difficulty and heartbreak on his path. In front and behind him.”

“The hell does that mean?” Gabe wondered.

“Fuck if I know. I don't make the messages I just read them.”

“Some soothsayer you are, I thought you're supposed to be all comforting and shit.”

“Fuck you Gabe, you think it’s so easy you do it.”

They were both grinning, and couldn't keep up the false animosity for long. Instead they laughed and quickly hugged each other. They were interrupted when the cafe door opened, and customers started to come in.

“That’s my signal,” she said.

“Thanks Vicky,” Pete replied, clapping her on the shoulder as she passed him.

Gabe went back behind the counter, and Pete followed after him asking, “Do you think we could slip something into his next drink?”

“If you want me to roofie that kid, Wentz, you are SOL.”

Pete laughed, but shook his head. “Nah just, if he wants another drink maybe put a couple drops of confidence in it?”

Gabe was looking at Patrick, who had been so startled by the appearance of people in the cafe he’d dropped his guitar. He was turning a brilliant shade of red, but no one was paying him any attention. “I think he’d probably need an entire draft of The Fool’s Esteem.”

“I don't get this, he’s amazing, why’s he so scared?” Pete asked.

“Not everyone wants to be the center of attention like you,” Gabe teased, poking Pete in the shoulder. Pete smacked his fingers away.

He was about to say more, when Gabe hissed, “Oh shit.” If Pete hadn't been standing next to him, he never would have heard it. Pete looked towards the door, to see several of the Red Fae walk in. Their leader, an ambiguously gendered creature called Fallon, was frowning at their surroundings.

“Show time,” said Pete, and he went to greet the fae. He bowed low, then showed them to a booth at the back of the cafe he’d reserved especially for them. He kept a smile on his face the whole time, and personally fetched their drinks and food. Once they were settled, Pete went back behind the cafe counter.

He wasn't surprised to see Ryan there waiting for him. Victoria by this time had taken up her usual seat by the window, a steaming cauldron in front of her. Brendon was still among the book stacks, but he was shooting looks to the stage and the fae group as often as he could get away with.

“What are they doing here?” Ryan asked.

“I invited them,” Pete replied, as though it should be the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?!” Hissed Ryan.

“Because we don't need ANY of the fair folk pissed at us, and I figured, you know, we have a cute guitar player now, so why not invite them to his first performance? Nothing says “sorry” like a cute guitarist.”

Gabe frowned, and Ryan’s face scrunched up as though he were thinking very hard about punching Pete. He then said, “If they kidnap him, it’s on you.” And he went back to the bookstore.

By this time, Patrick was ready. The Red Fae and several other customers were watching him with interest. Patrick was fiddling with the tuners on his guitar, his ears very pink against the edge of his black hat. But he sat on the stool provided, and began to play.

It was gorgeous, just like the last one. But this time Pete got more of a feeling of summer days, green fields and blue skies. Of being young and in love and not having a care in the world. It was amazing what Patrick could convey with a guitar and no words.

The Red Fae were completely rapt in his performance, and a few others had stopped talking just to watch him. Pete could see even from across the cafe, that there was a slight tremor to Patrick’s hands. He was afraid, but he didn’t look up at the audience. All of Patrick’s focus was on the guitar and the notes he wanted to play.

Pete was grinning as Patrick ended the song, and started another, barely allowing for applause. He didn't introduce the songs, or give any tidbits regarding what they were about. And it went on like that for hours. Pete could have watched him forever, but fifteen minutes to nine, Patrick stopped playing, and Pete ran over, jumping up on the stage.

“And that was Patrick Stump! Let’s hear it for him huh?” There was a huge round of applause, and Fallon had even stood to clap for Patrick. Patrick smiled, pleased, but also shrinking away from the edge of the stage. Pete didn't stop him, instead he said, “Patrick’s new to our establishment, and will be playing several times a week. For more information check out our website. We’re gonna be closing in fifteen minutes, so if anyone has any last minute purchases they’d like to make, please go to the nearest register. Thank you for coming out!”

Pete turned, but Patrick was already off the stage. Pete nearly panicked, thinking one of the fae might have cornered him. But then he saw Patrick slip behind the counter, ducking into the back store room. Figuring he was safe for the time being, Pete greeted several people, and bade goodbye to Fallon and his group.

“Lovely performance,” Fallon said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome to return any time he’s performing, and even when he’s not,” Pete replied.

“I shall. The grievance has been forgiven. Have a pleasant evening,” Fallon said, and he and his entourage left.

Once the shop was officially closed, Pete went to find Patrick. He was red faced and sweating, and Pete thought he looked as though he'd throw up. He was sitting in a folding chair, his hands around his neck as he concentrated on breathing. Pete grabbed another chair and sat next to him, asking, "Hey, are you alright?"

"Not really," Patrick admitted. "I've never played a show for an audience like that."

"Audience like what?" Pete asked, doing his best to mask his sudden fear. What if Ryan's glamour hadn't worked?

"Like, an actual, captive audience!" Patrick exclaimed, and Pete sighed, doing nothing to hide his relief. "Most of the time I can't get people to listen to me at all! And they were... Everyone liked it, right?" He was biting his lip, and Pete laughed.

"Duh, of course they liked it! Didn't you see how everyone stopped to listen to you? It's never been that quiet in the cafe before! The only thing that would have made it better is if you'd been singing on top of it," Pete told him. His eyes widened as he said, "Hey wait a minute! Can you sing?"

Patrick shook his head. "I don't... Kind of? I like to sing but I think I sound terrible."

"Oh screw that, you're probably like, a secret genius or something. Sing something for me," Pete replied, nudging Patrick's shoulder.

Patrick practically turned green, and shook his head. "No, I can't."

"C'mon, please?" Pete begged, doing his best puppy dog eyes. "I'll give you fifty bucks if you sing for me. College students like money right?"

Patrick stared at him like he couldn't quite believe Pete would say that. He busted up laughing and said, "All right. Just... Try to keep calm okay? And even if it sucks, try not to overreact okay?"

"Deal."

Patrick let out a slow breath, and drummed his fingers on his knee. He then closed his eyes, and started to sing. Pete recognized the song, an old Motown classic, which wasn't something he'd have expected. Patrick changed a few things, like runs on certain parts of the song and singing some notes at a higher octave. And it worked out, Pete was practically in love by the time Patrick was done.

"You need to do that next time!" Pete said enthusiastically. He then grabbed Patrick by the arm and dragged him out of the store room, saying, "Guys! Guess what! Patrick can SING!"

"Let go of me," Patrick said, trying to sound grumpy. He was blushing, but Pete could dell that Patrick was pleased.

"That's so cool!" Brendon said. "You're gonna sing here, right?"

"I don't-" Patrick said, but Gabe interrupted.

"You sing? You're a talented little man!" Gabe pulled away from Pete, and reached for Patrick to give him noogies. Victoria rolled her eyes and pushed him away from Patrick.

"Oh man that'd be something, especially Saturday nights. You'd really be doing us a favor if you could, Patrick," Victoria told him.

"I've never sung professionally before," Patrick admitted.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Really? You must be pretty talented if Pete's got a semi just from listening to you."

"I do NOT have a semi!" Pete insisted, and thrust his hips forward. "See? I am totally not hard!"

Victoria, Gabe, and Brendon laughed, while Patrick shook his head. "Aren't you ever worried about humiliating yourself?"

"No, why?" said Pete, and Patrick laughed. "Look, seriously, you're good. You're like, frighteningly good. If you could incorporate some singing into your gigs it would really help us out."

Patrick looked around the cafe. It was empty now, but Pete could easily guess what Patrick was thinking about. The cafe had been filled to capacity, and some people had been forced to stand in the stacks of the bookstore to watch him play. While Patrick was certainly shy, that sort of attention was hard to say no to. Finally, he turned to Pete and said, "All right, I'll do it. Last twenty minutes I can play some covers."

"RAD!" Pete said, pulling him into a hug. Patrick laughed again, and hugged Pete back. Pete knew this was just the start of things, and he was excited for what was to come.

* * *

 Pete decided to stay late. As he lived above the shop, it wasn’t like he had a long commute home. He wanted to have lesson plans ready for the workshop, as he really wanted it to work. He had to admit, Bebe’s idea to make the first two classes free had been genius. They were able to weed out the tourists and the fans, and while there were only seven people left, he was happy they were serious about learning poetic magic.

Brendon was very excited about getting started, as was Andy. Joe and Travie were more laid back, and it was helpful Travie already knew the basics. Laura Jane and Hayley both had a pretty good sense of humor, and Hayley wanted to see if she really could create a spell with dirty limericks. Halsey was a little harder to get a read on, as she was pretty quiet. But she did well on the first lesson, even if her poem had been on the creepy side.

Everyone of course had their own talent, and Pete was eager to see how to apply those talents. He was thinking of having one group lesson, then one on one training in the second hour of the class. He was still trying to work it out when he received a text.

_Hey, haven’t heard from you in four hours, you okay?_

Pete laughed and texted back, "bsy, have big plans, how r u?”

_Okay I guess. Class kinda sucked today._

"wut hapned?"

_Same thing that happens every time we have a guest lecturer. He was a pompous idiot._

"oooo ur vicious stump!"

_No I’m not. He was a total moron! Anyone who acts as though a bunch of dead white guys are the end all and be all of music is a pompous idiot and shouldn’t be lecturing anyone!_

Pete raised an eyebrow. “u got a prob w the masters?”

_No, but I’m also aware some of our greatest composers aren’t confined to European guys who died hundreds of years ago! It’s like saying rock and roll started and ended with Elvis Presley! Which is untrue in so many ways I can’t name them!_

“didnt chuck berry invent rock n’ roll?”

_He was one of the founders but the real start for rock was Big Mama Thornton._

That was enough to get Patrick going on what turned out to be an epically long rant about racism, sexims, and homophobia in music history. Pete couldn’t help himself, he egged Patrick on several times, and laughed with each text that started with _AND ANOTHER THING!_ In between reading and responding, Pete managed to finish his lesson plans.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time Patrick texted, _Forgot to do my homework._

“naughty boy ur grounded”

_I’m twenty, I don’t get grounded anymore._

“no free cookie when u come back nxt wk”

_But I like those cookies!_

"fine u can hve cookie but u hve 2 tell gabanti his shirts stupid”

_What if it’s not?_

“it’s gabe its gunna b stupid”

_Deal. I should at least try to get this started. Text me tomorrow?_

“abslutly l8r trick”

_What did you just call me?_

“trick? short for patrick?”

_Oh… Yeah, okay._

“if ur not cool with it ill stop”

_No it’s fine just surprised me is all._

“no 1 ever given you a nickname b4 pattycakes?”

_No, and that you can’t call me!_

“sure trick”

_TTYL._

Pete collapsed into bed, putting his phone on the charger. He was smiling as he tucked himself in. He knew Patrick was smart, he’d have to be to write the way he did. But the amount of knowledge he had about music was truly astounding. Pete could feel his initial attraction turning into a full blown crush.

He couldn’t wait until Patrick’s next gig. Pete wanted to see what would happen if he called him Pattycakes in person.

* * *

 Pete groaned, unsure of where the noise was coming from. He wanted to go back to sleep. At least when he was asleep, he didn't have to think about what an idiot he was. But there was an annoying tapping sound, that Pete's sleep muddled brain couldn't make any sense of. He sighed, grumbling into his pillow, and lifted his head.

It was then he realized the tapping sound was in fact, someone knocking on the door to his apartment. He looked at his cell phone to confirm, and yes it was three in the morning. Pete sighed and rolled out of bed, hoping whoever it was, they were at least cute.

Pete was surprised to see Patrick on his doorstep, and even more surprised when Patrick pushed past him and walked into the apartment. "I can't sleep," Patrick told him.

"I... What?" Pete asked.

"I'm too nervous!" Patrick told him, turning around to look at Pete. "I know you guys say I can do this, but I can't do this!"

“Okay first, how did you find my house?” Pete asked, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“You gave me your address yesterday so I’d come over for coffee I didn’t want to drink.”

That did sound like something Pete would do. But it was hard for him to think when he was so tired. "You know, normally this situation is reversed. I feel like I should be filming this so that Gabe doesn't accuse me of making it up," Pete replied, then closed and locked the door.

"It's not my fault you weren't answering your phone," Patrick replied. "I tried texting you, I even tried calling you. I can't do the gig tomorrow."

Pete rolled his eyes, then grabbed Patrick's arm and started pulling him towards the bedroom.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"If you're going to freak out, you're going to do it somewhere I can be horizontal. Seriously Trick, I've got insomnia, so you waking me up is a momentous occasion."

Patrick sheepishly pulled his arm away. "I'm sorry, I'll go."

"No you fucking won't, you're gonna stay right here and tell me why you think you can't do this. And it better not be because you think you suck. I like you but I won't hesitate to kick your ass for lying," Pete told him. They got to the bedroom, and Pete flopped on the bed.

Patrick looked around for a chair, but when he didn't see one, he sat on the bed next to Pete's prone form. "I do suck. I can't sing, Pete."

"You're on drugs," Pete sighed. "I knew there had to be something about you that wasn't perfect..."

"I'm not on drugs!" Patrick shot back. "I can't fucking sing okay?! I'm no David Bowie or Janis Joplin! There is NOTHING unique about my voice and I don't have the talent to pull this off!"

"You're singing for bookstore cafe patrons, I don't think they're gonna lynch you for not being a superstar." Pete tugged hard on Patrick's arm, causing him to topple over. He then wrapped his arms and legs around Patrick, adding, "If you really sucked I wouldn't have hired you. Also I think you’re special."

Patrick sputtered. "What? No you're just... You. I mean, you're like that with everyone aren't you?"

"Clingy? Yeah. But instead of going on and on about myself, I actually ask you about you." Pete lifted his head so he was looking straight into Patrick's eyes. "I wanna know everything about you because I like you. I want you to sing at my store because you're perfect and I want to show you off. "  

"We're not dating," he said in response, and Pete sighed.

"I know we're not dating," Pete said. "I wouldn't even be talking like this but I’ve had, like, two hours of sleep. When did you start having your freak out?"

Patrick was taken off guard, distracted by the talk of Pete's crush. Which was exactly what Pete was hoping for. He replied, "About an hour ago?"

"Okay cool. Stay here 'til morning. If you start freaking out again about how much you think you suck, I'll hug you and tell you how awesome you are." Pete squeezed him to emphasize his point.

"What if I don't wanna stay?"

"You know where the door is. But as a favor to me, and to yourself, you should stay."

Pete could see Patrick's hesitation, and he wouldn't have been surprised if Patrick decided to bolt. Instead, he gently untangled himself from Pete's arms and legs. Slowly, Patrick stripped down, until he was only left in a t-shirt and boxers. He climbed back in the bed, and Pete resumed spooning him.

"This is really weird, " Patrick said.

"It's not weird, it's comforting. Shut up and go to sleep," Pete told him, and for extra effect nuzzled the back of Patrick's neck. It took ages for Patrick to relax. Once he had, they both drifted off. The trouble didn't really start until the next morning.

"RISE AND SHINE!" A voice said, startling both of them. Patrick fell off the bed, while Pete sat up, looking around for the source. Gabe stood in the doorway, a cup of coffee in his hand, and a smirk on his face.

"This isn't what it looks like!" Patrick said, picking himself up off the floor.

"Pete talked you into platonic snuggle time? Don't worry he does it to everyone," Gabe replied; he walked around the bed and handed Pete the cup. "You didn't show for opening, I thought maybe you were hungover again."

Patrick didn't respond to that, instead he grabbed his clothes and shoes and ran into the bathroom, locking the door. Gabe laughed, plopping on the bed next to Pete. "So what's he doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep," Pete replied, and sipped the coffee. It was a different mixture. Gabe had combined alertness with peace and joy, which Pete had to admit worked much better than two shots of serenity.

"So you invited him over for cuddles? That is moving fast, even for you," Gabe said, poking Pete in the side.

"He came over freaking out at three am because he's singing today. I subdued him with my kung fu octopus grip," Pete replied, grinning. Gabe laughed at that.

"That is a deadly grip." He shouted at the bathroom door, "Yo Stump! You want anything from downstairs? A coffee? Maybe a ride home?"

A muffled "I'm fine!" came from the bathroom and Gabe shook his head.

"Whatevs. I'll see you guys later." Gabe got off the bed and left, Pete chuckling as he finished his coffee.

Once Gabe was gone, Patrick opened the door to the bathroom to peek out. He sighed when he didn't see Gabe, and stepped out in his clothes from the previous day. "Is he going to make a big deal out of this?"

"Probably, but only for a day or two," said Pete.

He noticed Patrick was staring at him, or more specifically, his chest. Pete hadn't worn a shirt to bed last night, and truthfully would have been naked except that he'd been too tired to remove his boxers when he'd gotten home. Thinking that maybe that was Patrick's problem, Pete pushed off the covers and said, "See? Still wearing undies. Your virtue is secure."

"Huh? Oh, uh... Yeah, okay, good I guess," Patrick replied, then said, "I should get out of your hair. I'm sorry for coming over and waking you up."

"It was worth it," Pete told him. "I got to sleep next to you. I'd do it again in a second. Any time you need me, you can come over. Standing invitation, I promise."

“I don’t know about that, I mean… This was kind of weird and also out of character for me,” Patrick admitted. The tips of his ears were turning red, which made Pete smile at the sheer force of cute.

“Look, nothing to be awkward about. If you want we can pretend it didn’t happen. But if you need someone? I’m here, okay?”

“Thanks Pete,” said Patrick. He then left the apartment.

Pete smiled to himself, and flopped back onto the bed. He couldn’t help grinning.

* * *

 Patrick was shaking so badly that Pete was surprised he didn't drop his guitar. The store and cafe both were packed. Word had gotten around about Patrick’s performances, and Charmers and magical creatures both had turned out in droves to watch him play. It was really boosting sales for the cafe, and more surprisingly, for the book store.

Pete had left Ryan in charge of the register, so that he could catch the last half hour of Patrick’s act. This was when he would sing his covers, and he knew Patrick was terrified. Even with Gabe’s confidence boosting tea, Patrick was sweating bullets. He looked around, and caught sight of Pete, who gave him a thumbs up and grinned.

Patrick nodded at him, then said into the microphone, “Gonna do something a little different this time. This is one of my favorite songs, hope you like it.”

He then launched into an acoustic cover of a Prince song. Pete wasn't sure which one, as he wasn't that familiar with Prince’s discography. But when Patrick started singing, Pete could feel the slightest tingle of magic.

The low buzz that had been going completely stopped, and everyone turned to look at Patrick. He had his eyes closed, gripping and strumming his guitar harder than strictly necessary. Ryan appeared beside Pete, and muttered, “Closed the register.” Pete glanced at him, and saw he was transfixed. He couldn't blame him.

While there were some rough spots, Patrick’s voice was high and clear. Pete couldn't have told anyone later what songs Patrick sang, but he could describe in vivid detail the images they invoked. He could see neon, smell water run off, and feel humidity, like a city after a rain storm. Another song reminded him of brick dust and concrete, stupid decisions made after midnight, and holding hands with someone you loved.

But the last, that was what really struck Pete. He and Ryan had moved to the cafe, to sit with Gabe, Victoria, and Brendon. He was glad to be surrounded by friends, because the pain that suddenly struck him was intense. It was Patrick’s last song of the night, and he said, “This goes out to someone who was a special someone.”

Patrick sang, and Pete was suddenly caught up in memories. Blonde hair spilling across a naked back, a sweet voice telling him that she couldn't stay. Dark hair and darker eyes, a bony body pressed against him in the dark telling Pete that he loved him. Pete didn't realize he was crying until he felt arms around him.

Brendon was hugging him, and he muttered, “It’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Pete said, glad he'd been dragged out of his reverie. Patrick had stopped playing by this time, and the whole building was quiet.

Pete broke away, and climbed up onto the table they were sitting at. As Victoria and Ryan tried to get him down, Pete held his hands above his head and clapped as loud as he could, yelling, “YEAH!”

He wasn't the only one. Several people were on their feet, clapping and yelling enthusiastically. Pete saw he wasn't the only person who was crying. Patrick was blushing hard, and shrank into himself. He managed a bow for the audience, then turned to put his guitar away.

People were crowding around the stage, asking him questions, and as Pete jumped down from the table, he was surprised to see a white haired elder woman among them. He recognized her as Supreme Andrews, the leader of the Hedge Witches. Pete pushed through the crowd, then jumped up on the sage and grabbed the mic.

“Glad you enjoyed the performance folks, but please, give Patrick a little breathing room. I'm sure he’ll be more than happy to meet all of you. Don't forget to put a little something in the tip jar for him though, he's a college student after all.”

That several laughs, and Gabe and Brendon began corralling people into an orderly line. Patrick’s jaw dropped, and he said, “I can’t believe this.”

“I can. Told you, you've got a great voice,” Pete replied.

He and Patrick sat on the edge of the stage, and Patrick talked with and shook hands with every person who approached. Pete kept the tip jar in sight, and would gently cajole people into leaving something for Patrick before they left.

It took nearly an hour. By the end of that time, Patrick had five jars all stuffed with bills, and a very pretty flower crown that Supreme Andrews had made and placed on Patrick’s head. “You're a beautiful soul,” she told him. He seemed a little unsure, but it suited him. It didn't escape Pete’s attention that the crown was made of white carnations, ferns, and daisies. She gave Pete a look as she left, and he frowned at her in return.

White carnations meant purity, ferns meant magic, and daisies meant innocence. He wasn't completely sure what she was saying to him, but he did quickly run a hand over the crown. He couldn't sense any magic off of it, so Pete was fairly sure she hadn't cast a spell on it.

When everyone had said their piece to Patrick and left, he slumped as though he were going to fall. Pete grabbed him around the middle, asking, “You okay?”

“Yeah, just… That was intense.”

“People fucking love you man,” Gabe said, grinning.

“I'd say that was a smashing success,” Victoria agreed.

Ryan was counting the money from the tip jars, and said, “Yeah considering they gave you about five hundred dollars.”

“What?!” Patrick yelped, sitting up to look at Ryan.

“Five hundred and fifty six, to be precise,” he replied. “That on top of whatever Pete’s paying you, I’d say you made a killing.”

Patrick pulled away from Pete, and went to Ryan to count the money as well. Brendon sidled up to Pete and poked him in the side, whispering, “Look up.”

Pete did, and was shocked to see the Grimalkin Bird hovering there. It had come with the shop when Pete bought it, and he'd been told in no uncertain terms not to remove it. Pete had no idea if it was male or female, or if it even had a name besides Grimalkin Bird. All he knew was that it was a creepy black cat with stubby gray wings that hovered around the store and cafe.

And now it was hovering above Patrick, looking at him with interest. Pete wasn't sure what it meant, but he hoped the Grimalkin Bird would leave Patrick alone.

“Oh shit… I… I have money,” Patrick said, his eyes watery. He then said, “Holy shit you guys I have money!” And pulled Ryan and Victoria into a hug.

Gabe laughed and said, “Group hug!” And wrapped his long arms around the trio. Brendon bounced over to them and did the same, and Pete joined them. When everyone broke apart, Patrick grabbed Pete by the lapels and squeezed him tight.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” he said, and Pete rubbed his back, smiling into his shoulder.

“No, thank you. We made a killing tonight because of you. You getting a shit ton of tips is just a bonus.”

“We should celebrate!” Brendon declared.

“Yeah! Let's go out! There's this great bar up the street, you'd love it Patrick it's all live music,” Victoria told him.

“Well…” Pete was waiting, sure that Patrick would make an excuse to go home. But instead he grinned and said, “All right, why not?”

“Yeah! Let’s get wasted!” Gabe crowed.

* * *

 Hours later, and they were still at the bar. Patrick was having fun, and had spent a lot of the first hour hanging with Vicky and Brendon. Ryan watched with interest, and he asked, “Worried?”

“Worried about what?” Pete replied, raising an eyebrow.

“That Patrick’s going to replace you as Brendon’s favorite person ever,” Ryan teased and Gabe laughed.

“That’d be impossible since I happen to be Brendon’s favorite person ever," Gabe said.

“Please, you are not,” said Ryan, preening. “I’m his favorite.”

“You’re no one’s favorite ever, Ryro,” Pete told him, grinning. Ryan laughed and gave Pete a push.

“So… Patrick seems to be kinda low on money?” Ryan said.

“Yeah no one should be that excited over a couple hundred bucks.” Gabe took a sip of his beer. “I mean, he is a college student, but that’s still kinda weird.”

“I have it on good authority most college students are like that,” Ryan pointed out.

Pete snorted and sipped his drink. “Whatever. Go bug someone else, I’m gonna rescue Patrick from Vicky and Brendon’s clutches.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Gabe asked, feigning shock, making Ryan laugh.

Pete flipped them off, and approached where Vicky and Brendon were giggling with Patrick. He’d taken the flower crown off, and was picking at some of the petals. Pete smiled at him and said, “Hey, uh… Can I talk to you?”

Vicky raised an eyebrow and asked, “I dunno, can you?”

“He does appear to be talking,” Brendon said, giggling. His face was flush, and it was pretty obvious that he was tipsy. Patrick however picked up his beer and got up, following after Pete. He left the flower crown behind.

“Uh, something wrong?” Patrick asked as they sat down at another table.

“No. Why would you think something’s wrong?”

“It’s, uh…” He bit his lip, hesitating. “It’s been a really great day so I guess I’m kind of just waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

Pete waved his hand. “None of that. Today was awesome, you were super amazing, and I can’t wait to see your next show.”

Patrick was blushing. “I’m not that good.”

“My ass!” Pete tried to keep the offense out of his voice. How Patrick could believe he was anything other than amazing was astounding. “You’re an awesome guitar player and an amazing singer! You earned that money all on your own.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Okay, admittedly? I am totally prone to hyperbole. But come on Patrick, you’re one in a million. I wish I could make you see that.” Pete leaned forward. “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

Patrick was staring at his drink, and he shrugged. “What do you wanna know?”

“Well like… What’s your family like? What do you like to do for fun? Are you seeing anyone? Where’d you grow up? What’s your favorite color?” 

Patrick held up his hands. “Dude, stop.”

“Hey, you asked what I wanted to know.” Pete grinned at him and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Okay well… It’s just me and my folks, I still live with them. Aside from music I don’t really have any hobbies. I mean, I like to read. But that’s mostly about music too. I’m not dating right now. I was born in Evanston--”

Pete cut him off. “No way! Really?!”

“Uh, yeah?” Patrick was frowning at him.

“Dude! I’m from Wilmette!”

Patrick’s jaw dropped. “No way.”

“Yeah!” Pete grinned and Patrick laughed.

“That’s one hell of a coincidence. Did you end up going to DePaul too?”

Pete shook his head. “Nah, I was doing the private tutor thing but that didn’t work out so well. See I had different goals than my parents did, so I said ‘screw school’ and went after them. Now I have my own business and I’m doing pretty well.”

Patrick smiled at him, and took a sip of his beer. “That’s amazing.”

“Heh, yeah, well it wasn’t easy getting here,” Pete was frowning now, thinking back. It wasn’t just Daisy that bothered him, there were other things. Things that probably weren’t too good to think about.

“What’s the matter?” Patrick asked.

“Hm?” Pete looked at Patrick. “Oh, sorry.”

“Hey, no really, what is it?” Patrick leaned closer, staring intently at Pete.

Pete sighed. “It wasn’t easy because I stressed the fuck out. Just when my business was taking off, and things were going really well? I… Tried to kill myself.”

“Fuck!” Patrick pulled Pete into a hug, then pulled back just as quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to jump on you like that. But… Fuck, why did you do that?”

Pete was surprised, but couldn’t stop himself from talking. “I couldn’t take the pressure. And I was off my meds, which, not a great combo.”

“What meds?”

“I’m bipolar,” Pete told him. He couldn’t believe he was telling Patrick this. Mentally, he was cursing himself. He wanted Patrick to stick around, this was just going to make him run for his life.

But Patrick didn’t look afraid, or like he pitied Pete. Instead, he said, “It’s amazing you managed to pull through that. It couldn’t have been easy.”

And he wasn’t lying, Pete could tell. There was admiration there, and even happiness, though why Pete had no idea. But it made him grin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make things so heavy.”

“It’s okay,” Patrick assured him. He sipped his beer and asked, “Unless you need a subject change?”

“Tell me something nice,” Pete countered. He could feel that creeping darkness, the depression. Sometimes, he could avoid it if he could distract himself.

“Oh, uh…” Patrick seemed to be scratching his brain, but then blurted out, “I used to have a crush on the singer from Savage Garden.”

“Wait, that guy with the high voice and black hair?” Pete asked.

“My girlfriend in high school really liked them,” he admitted, covering his face.

Pete pointed and laughed. “You are making that up!”

“I’m not! That’s how I figured out I was bi. I stayed over at her house once and had a dream he was giving me a blow job.” Patrick was now hiding his face in his hoodie, while Pete cackled.

“That is the best thing I’ve ever heard!” Pete howled, and kept laughing. He ended up laughing so hard he started coughing, and Patrick had to clap him on the back several times.

Pete wiped his eyes and Patrick muttered, “It wasn’t that funny.”

“Yeah it was,” Pete said. He sighed, rubbing his chest to try to calm down. “Sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I’m not embarrassed.” When Pete raised an eyebrow at him, Patrick sighed in exasperation. “Okay I’m a little embarrassed. But I’m glad to see you laughing.”

Pete nodded. “Yeah, I really needed that. Thanks Patrick.”

“Anytime,” Patrick replied, and Pete smiled and hugged him.

No one had to know his heart was racing, especially not Patrick.

* * *

 It was a few weeks later, and Patrick had become an established act at Prince Charmer's. Pete had listened to Gabe's suggestion and had hired him to come in on Tuesdays as well. And Gabe had been right, Patrick broke the Curse of the Empty Store. Now on Tuesdays they were pretty packed, and managed to sell books and coffee after coffee.

Though it was getting harder and harder to keep magic a secret from Patrick. Especially when people assumed that he was was a Charmer himself. He was thinking about it that night at the poetry workshop, and hadn't realized how far he'd drifted in his thoughts until Bebe snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Hey, space cadet!"

"Hm? Oh sorry," said Pete. "I kinda keep doing that." He looked around, seeing people paired together, and was surprised to see Gabe hanging out with Brendon towards the back. "When the hell did Gabe get here?"

"About ten minutes after class started," Bebe replied. She smirked and tugged on Pete's ear, adding, "You gotta stop fantasizing about Patrick and focus."

"I was not--wait how do you know about Patrick?" Pete asked.

"EVERYONE knows about Patrick. Word's spreading through the Charmer community about this hot new music Charmer playing here," said Bebe, raising an eyebrow. "He's a Banal isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is, and I'm trying to keep all," he gestured around the room, "this a secret. I don't want him to freak out."

Bebe looked around, as Halsey's chant caused the tiniest cyclone ever. As Laura Jane's slam poetry caused her to levitate six feet off the ground. As Travie's rap made him glow blue. As Andy and Joe traded lines back and forth, causing vines and roses to appear around them. "Hm, I think I see what you mean. But you should probably tell him sooner rather than later."

Pete hummed in agreement, though of course he had no intention of following through. He stood up and said, "Looks like you guys are doing pretty good so far. I think we can move on to a group exercise. Everyone get a new sheet of paper."

They did as he said, Brendon practically vibrating with excitement. Hayley was grinning too, and Pete said, "All right, I want everyone to create a short poem that's capable of summoning fairy lights. Remember JUST the lights, make sure that's your focus. I don't want to have groups of fairies running around in here."

"You're no fun!" Gabe said, and Pete flipped him off.

"Fuck you Saporta! And stop distracting Brendon!"

"I'm not distracted!" Brendon said, and Gabe grinned smugly at Pete.

Pete rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah yeah... You've got an hour to finish your poems."

Pete circled around, checking to see if anyone needed help. Travie was fine of course, as was Laura Jane. Halsey had struggled a bit with some word placement, but Pete pointed out a synonym she could use instead. Joe was frowning down at his paper, and Pete asked, "Something wrong?"

"Can I do a haiku?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, I don't see why not. Remember it's not just the words that are important but the intent behind them," said Pete.

He then looked at Andy, who shrugged and said, "I'm already done."

"Seriously? Let me see that." He picked up the paper, and smirked when he saw that Andy had written a sonnet. "Nice."

Pete handed it back to Andy, who looked pleased with himself. "Thank you. Let's hope it works."

When he reached the back of the room, it was to find Gabe and Brendon having a whispered conversation. "Hey, no helping him!" Pete snapped.

"I'm not helping him," Gabe said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah," said Brendon, pursing his lips. "We were just talking."

"Talking about what?"

"You and Patrick and how you guys would be really cute together," said Gabe, and Brendon's eyes widened.

"Hey you weren't supposed to tell him!"

Pete frowned at them, and then said, "Gabe, seriously, I will totally kick you out of here. Let him work."

Brendon looked sheepish, but went back to writing.

Pete was pleased to see no one had a problem with the deadline, and when he called time, he asked, "Who wants to go first?"

"I will," said Laura Jane, and Pete nodded. He wasn't the least bit surprised that her spell worked right the first time, and her soft smile when she was surrounded by delicate pink fairy lights made Pete grin.

Next was Travie, who's rap was short and very inventive. The fairy lights he summoned were blue, and mixed with Laura Jane's pink ones.

Then it was Hayley's turn, and her limerick didn't work the first time. But she closed her eyes, concentrated, and said it over again, and a burst of orange lights formed around her before they joined the rest.

Unsurprisingly, Andy's sonnet was not only lovely, but brought the brightest group of fairy lights yet. A soft green color, which floated around the room before mixing.

After Andy came Halsey, who'd written lyrics. Her voice trembled a little at first, but she stopped, refocused, and spoke with more force, bringing forth a group of red lights.

Joe went next, and he looked fairly nervous. But he gripped his paper tight, and said, "Lights will gently float, they come from the fairy realm, they are beautiful." Pete held his breath, then grinned and clapped when a large group of golden lights appeared around him. They were the largest yet.

Brendon stared for a moment, then said, "Crap, I was gonna do a tanka."

"You still can," Bebe told him. "Just because Joe did a haiku doesn't mean you can't do that."

"Ooo a tanka? I wanna hear this," Laura Jane said, turning towards Brendon.

"What hell is a tanka?" Hayley asked, and Halsey shrugged.

"It's like a haiku but longer," Pete explained, then nodded to Brendon. "Go ahead."

Brendon bit his lip, looking unsure. But Gabe cheered, "YEAH! Go Brendon! You're fucking awesome!"

"Gabe shut up!" Bebe yelled, but it seemed to have done the trick. Brendon straightened his back, and recited his poem.

"There is a soft wind/With scents of flower and rain/From a distant shore/The lights of fairy arrive/With the blessing of the spring." Brendon looked around, and he grinned when he was surrounded by violet lights.

Everyone watched as the violet lights joined the rest. The rainbow of colors rose, and glided along the ceiling, spreading out. Pete smiled, pleased that his students had done so well. "I think that's enough for tonight, guys. Excellent work, give yourselves a hand!"

The class applauded, and then dispersed. Bebe left early when Lolo arrived, and then it was just Gabe and Pete in the shop. Gabe was looking up at the lights, and he said, "That kid's got talent."

"Brendon? Yeah he does." Pete frowned, eyebrows knitting in confusion. "What were you even doing here anyway?"

"Moral support," Gabe replied, shrugging. "He's worried he's gonna make an idiot out of himself."

"That's... Does he not realize how good he is?"

"Hell no. He's about as insecure as Patrick." Gabe whistled, snapping his fingers, and the fairy lights swirled.

"Yeah, which is crazy, I mean they're both super talented."

"That they are. You wanna leave the lights up?"

Pete looked up at the ceiling, and smiled. "Yeah, let's leave 'em. They'll dissipate on their own in a few hours."

"All right. Great class by the way, learned a lot," Gabe said to him, and Pete laughed.

"Thanks man."

* * *

 It was late fall, and a surprisingly warm and beautiful day given that it was Chicago and they were so close to winter. It was only making him more angry. Pete growled in frustration, and tossed another piece of paper across the room. Technically, it wasn't a room. It was a reading loft he’d set up for customers in the hopes of being a magical version of Barnes and Noble. But few people took advantage of it, and the ones who did were of a variety that weren't exactly human. However, at that moment, it was empty save him and Patrick.

Patrick had been playing at the cafe for two months now, and he was a fixture there now more often than not. Normally, he would be glad that 

Patrick looked up from where he was doing his homework, and he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Pete snapped.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Wow, that was believable.” He closed his textbook and said, “No, seriously, what's wrong?”

“The words aren't coming,” he blurted out. He then wanted to smack himself upside the head. But Patrick was up, and gathering the little paper balls that Pete had been throwing. “Don't read that,” Pete said.

It didn't deter Patrick. He opened the papers, and looked them over. He then sat next to Pete and asked, “Why do you think these don't work?”

“Because they're stupid. What isn't trite doesn't make any fucking sense,” Pete told him. What he'd been trying to do was write a new spell to demonstrate a principle to his class, but all he was getting was gibberish.

Patrick was still reading them, and he started tapping out a rhythm on his knee. He then took a pen and started underlining sections. He grabbed his notebook and began writing things down.

“What are you doing?” Pete asked.

Patrick didn't answer him. Instead he kept writing. When he was finished, he handed the notebook to Pete. He was blushing as he did, and said, “It’s not nonsense.”

Pete read over what Patrick had done, and his eyes widened. Patrick had used a completely different rhythm, something that Pete hadn't even considered. He’d pulled the scribbles together to form a stanza that really caught Pete’s attention, and he asked, “What kind of poem were you going for?”

Patrick blinked. “I… I wasn't? I thought they'd make good lyrics. The overall rhythm of the syllables kind of matched something I was working on so…” He was still blushing.

Pete couldn't say anything for a minute. He then grinned and hugged Patrick, saying, “You’re a genius! A tiny, angry genius!”

“Hey get off me!” Patrick said, but he was laughing.

Pete let him go, grinning at Patrick. “These are fucking great! Hey what song were you putting them to?”

“Uh, well… I haven't finished it yet,” Patrick said.

“But you gotta!” Pete exclaimed. “I wanna hear it!”

“Are you sure?” Asked Patrick. He was red again. “I mean, they're your words.”

“You can have them!” Pete handed over the crumpled sheets of paper.

Patrick stared at the papers in surprise, then smiled and tucked them carefully in his backpack. “Okay! I’ll see what I can throw together.”

“I wanna hear it as soon as it’s done,” Pete told him fervently.

“You’ll be the first person I call, promise.”

Pete heard someone clear their throat, and he looked up to see Bebe standing there. “Hey, Pete, it’s getting close to that time.”

Pete looked around and saw that the shop was closed, and some of his students were trickling in. He smiled apologetically at Patrick and said, “Sorry man, time to go.”

“It’s cool, I got a train to catch anyway,” Patrick replied. He packed up the rest of his things, and asked, “See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely.” Patrick smiled shyly in return, then left.  Pete watched him go, and sighed. He wished he could leave with Patrick, ask him more about his music, and why he was deranged enough to think Pete’s crappy poetry would make good lyrics. He was drawn out of those thoughts by Bebe snorting.

He looked up at her and frowned.  “What?”

“You are so in love with him,” she replied. “Pete why don't you just ‘fess up? He’s gonna have to know what this place really is eventually.”

“He’s not ready for this shit yet,” he told her, and headed downstairs.

Bebe wasn't to be deterred. She followed after him, saying, “He’s never gonna be ready according to you! But you should tell him! Then you can ask him out.”

“Hey, I can ask him out any time I want!” Pete replied, then smacked his forehead when she smirked at him.

“Pete and Patrick, sitting in a tree,” she sang, and Pete flipped her off.

But Lolo had overheard, and she laughed and continued, “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“I will murder you both,” Pete threatened.

“First comes love,” Bebe continued, and Lolo sang, “Then comes marriage!”

“Then comes a changeling in a baby carriage!” Brendon chimed in.

“Fuck not you too!” Pete snapped. But of course now that Brendon had joined in, that meant Gabe did as well.

The four sang in unison, “Sucking its thumb, shitting its pants, doing the Nuada Nuala dance!”

“I hate you all,” Pete muttered, and the others laughed.

Bebe slung an arm around his shoulders and said, “Seriously Pete, you should tell him and get it over with.”

Pete nudged her away with his elbow, then walked away, saying over his shoulder, “Stay out of it Bebe.”

* * *

Pete felt like he was going to bounce off the walls. And of course it was a day that Patrick was at the store, so he did his best to try to contain it. But it wasn’t going well. He was sitting in the cafe, knee bouncing, eyes darting around as though just waiting for something to go wrong. Patrick was sitting at the table with him, and he asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, great, perfect,” Pete said, a little too quickly.

Patrick stopped tuning his guitar, instead gently putting it down. He turned more towards Pete and asked, “Are you sure?”

Pete sighed. “No, I’m just… I’m running a bit manic right now.”

“And you’re trying to control it,” Patrick concluded, and Pete nodded.

“Yeah, I just don’t wanna freak you out.”

“You’re not gonna freak me out, Pete,” Patrick replied. He picked his guitar up again, and he asked, “Want me to play you something?”

“You don’t go on for another hour,” Pete said lamely. Patrick rolled his eyes and Pete sighed. “Yeah, play me something.”

Patrick sat up straight, and strummed his guitar a few times. Once he seemed to be satisfied with the sound, he began to play. He was softly singing along, and Pete instantly recognized the words. They were the poem that Patrick asked for, to turn into music. Pete stared at him, and his heart was beating faster.

When Patrick finished the song, there was applause from cafe patrons, and he could hear an excited “whoop” coming from Gabe, but none of that mattered. Pete felt calm, as though the mania had never happened. Manic episodes didn’t just vanish like that, at least not for Pete. His only conclusion was that Patrick must have done it. He reached out and clasped Patrick’s shoulder, and he felt it. Patrick was still a Banal, but there was potential there. He could be a Charmer, if he wanted to be.

For one moment, Pete had the urge to remove the curse, and tell Patrick everything. To let Patrick into his world, as an equal. But the impulse passed, and Pete left the spell in place. Patrick was smiling at him, a touch of shyness to it, and he asked, “What do you think?”  
  
“I think that was fucking remarkable and you’re too fucking good to be playing cafes and subway stations for the rest of your life,” Pete told him honestly.

Patrick’s cheeks were pink, and he shrugged off Pete’s hand. “You’re just saying that.”

“I mean it,” Pete insisted. “Patrick, you’re… Fuck, you’re beautiful, you’re talented, and you’re one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. I’d fucking marry you right now!”

Patrick’s eyes widened and he said, “You’re not serious.”

“I’m totally serious. I would love to fucking marry you. But as it is…” Pete took Patrick’s hand in both of his, and asked, “Would you go out with me?”

Patrick stuttered, and pulled his hand away. He didn’t say anything, instead he stood and went up to the reading loft, taking the guitar with him. Pete sat there, confused. Was that a no? Or a maybe? It certainly wasn’t a yes.

Vicky came over and said, “Real smooth, boss.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Pete whined.

“Oh I’m sure.” Vicky rolled her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. Just leave him alone.”

“But he didn’t answer me!”

“He might need some time to think about it, just leave him alone and let him answer in his own time.”

Pete knew she was right, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier. He stood, and went to his office. He decided burying himself in his long neglected accounts would be a sufficient distraction, at least until Patrick decided to come down. But five minutes into an honest effort to get some work done, Pete was ready to give up. He hated balancing the books, and wanted to hire someone to do it for him.

After an hour had passed, he heard Patrick playing in the cafe. Pete wanted to get up and listen, but thought that might make Patrick nervous after what had happened. So he stayed in his office, and was surprised when Ryan came in, propping the door open.

“What?” Pete asked, tone snippy.

“Nothing, just thought you’d like to listen to our resident siren while you agonize over money,” Ryan replied, a smirk on his face.

“Fuck off,” he muttered. He flipped a page in one of the books and added, “We need a computer.”

“Would you really like a repeat of the incident with the cash register?” Ryan asked.

Pete sighed. In a vain attempt to modernize, he’d gotten a digital cash register. But within a fortnight it was completely useless, having been set upon by gremlins. The same thing happened to every other modern piece of equipment he brought into the store, excluding cell phones. He wasn’t sure why, but the latest iPhone seemed to be their kryptonite.

He sat back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, asking, “Is there a way we can modernize without incurring the wrath of mythical beasties?”

“Probably,” Ryan said. “You’d probably need to speak with an electric magic specialist. They might be able to build us a computer or register that gremlins can’t destroy.”

“I don’t know that I know any,” Pete told him. But then he sat up straight and said, “Wait! I know someone who might know one!” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started to text. He looked up just in time to see Ryan walk out of the room, rolling his eyes.

"hey moiky"

_Sup?_

"do u know any electric mages that cn make a gremlin proof comp?"

_Are you on something?_

"im sirius"

_I might know one. He’s a friend of my brother._

"friend or friiiiiiiieeeeend?"

_I honestly don’t know. Is there like a deadline or something you’d need this by?_

"b4 the next millennium"

_I can ask. So how’s things going these days?_

"kk"

_Okay who is it now?_

Pete frowned at his phone.

"wut r u talking abt?"

_You’re pining. Who is it?_

"dunno what ur talkin abt"

_Ok, I’ll ask Gabe._

"gabe is a LIAR"

_He’s got the best gossip and it’s 87% true._

"fuck u mikeyway"

_Pass, i’m seeing someone._

"who?"

_I’ll tell you if you tell me._

"fine his name is patrick he plays music in the cafe"

_Nice. I’m dating Frank Iero_

"ur brother’s ex frnk?"

_Do you know another one?_

"scandal hows g feel about it?"

_He’s getting gang banged by his two boyfriends and his wife once a week. Pretty sure he’s fine with it._

Pete laughed at that. "go g i guess what’s frank like?"

_Better than you but not as big._

"thnks mw love the ego stroking."

_Gonna go stroke Frank’s ego now. Tell everyone I said hi._

"sure thing ttfn"

Pete chuckled as he put his phone away. He was going to make some headway with the accounts if it killed him. He ended up getting so wrapped up in it he was startled when he heard someone clear their throat.

He looked up and saw Patrick in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Pete replied, and Patrick closed the door.

“Look, I… I really appreciate that you like me. I’m super flattered. But, I can't go out with you.”

“Why?” Pete asked.

“It’s... I don't want to say.”

"Is it the job?" Pete asked. “It’s not like I’d fire you if we broke up.”

Patrick sighed. “Pete, please. I really like playing here, and everyone has been so kind. But… Look, really, I can't go out with you.”

Pete frowned. He could see Patrick was distressed, and he wasn’t enough of an asshole to press it. At least not that day. “Okay. I’ll ask again another time. Until then we can still be awesome friends and you can still stun everyone with your amazing talent.”

“Thank you,” Patrick replied. He looked relieved, but also sad. Before Pete could ask why, Patrick had left the room.

“Why does everything have to be so complicated?” Pete muttered, then went back to the books.

* * *

He didn't care that he was moping. He didn't care that he was probably getting on everyone's nerves. Patrick didn't love him, or at least didn't like him enough to agree to one measly little date. Pete was lounging in the cafe, watching people come and go. Gabe was nowhere to be found, not that it mattered to Pete.

Vicky frowned at Pete, and nudged his feet a little. "Hey, stop that."

"Why? I suck," Pete groaned, curling up on himself.

"You do not suck," Vicky replied. She sat down across from him. "Honey, he might have a good reason for not wanting to go out with you."

"Yeah, and that reason is that I suck."

Vicky rolled her eyes. "Pete, stop it okay? Patrick's got a lot going on and he might not have the time to date right now. He is in school after all."

"His senior year of college to be more precise," said Ryan, and Pete frowned.

"Aren't you supposed to be watching the register?" Pete asked.

"Got it covered," Ryan replied, gesturing. Pete leaned to the side, along with Vicky, so they could see the counter. Ryan had an illusion of himself standing there reading, and no one seemed to be particularly bothered.

"You can't do that every time you don't feel like working," Pete said, pouting.

"You're just jealous you can't do it," Ryan told him, smirking.

Pete sighed, and went back to curling in on himself. "I should just go back upstairs and hide in my room. So I don't bother anyone anymore."

"Oh I see I'm just in time for the self martyrdom." Ryan snagged a chair and sat next to Pete. "It's not all about you, dude. Look remember that night we all went out?"

"Yeah," Pete replied. It was hard to forget, he'd talked to Patrick most of the night.

"Right. Well, when you weren't monopolizing Stump's time, we talked to him too. Y'know he's SUPER busy right? Class, work, he barely has time to sleep. So maybe don't take him turning you down as a flat out rejection."

“Sure seems like it,” Pete pouted.

“Yeah because you’re being a dramatic jackass,” said Vicky. 

Pete frowned and flipped them both off, but figured it wasn’t a bad idea, so he texted Patrick.

“thinking about u”

_Kinda wishing you were here._

Pete blinked at that. “yeah?”

_With a chainsaw._

Pete sighed. “why?”

_I’m cold, and people keep yelling at me because we don’t have enough blue books for midterms!_

Pete frowned, wondering what the hell he was talking about. “where r u?”

_Student bookstore. Sorry can’t talk, incoming freshman. TTYL._

Pete looked up, to see that Vicky had already left. Ryan was still there, and Pete asked, “He works for the school?”

“Guess so, I never actually asked him what he does besides playing guitar here,” Ryan told him. He pursed his lips, and added, “You could offer him a job, we could use an extra set of hands around here.”

“He’s already got a job here,” Pete pointed out. “And he does good playing guitar.”

“Yeah, well, we should still hire on an extra person anyway,” Ryan said, getting up. “We’re short staffed.”

Pete looked around, puzzled. “Hey… Where the hell are Gabe and Brendon?”

“Fuck if I know.” Ryan shrugged, and went back to the register.

Pete frowned at that, and looked around the store. They were nowhere in sight, but when he was getting ready to call them, Gabe came out of the storeroom, and Brendon came down from the reading loft. That was… Strange, but Pete didn’t want to deal with it right then.

Still feeling awful and wanting to mope more, Pete went back to his apartment and waited for Patrick to text him back.

* * *

Pete didn't like it one bit. He hadn't been to a college campus in years, not even when he was dating Daisy. But Patrick wasn't answering his texts, and Pete had even called him, but with no response. Therefore in Pete logic it made perfect sense to stop by DePaul and see what the hell was going on.

He got a strange tingling feeling as he approached the music building. One that told him another Charmer was nearby. And Pete nearly knocked her over as he looked around for the entrance. She had dark hair, and her large eyes flashed black for a moment. But she smiled, and it faded.

“Hello,” she said, her voice high but with a slight rasp.

“Hey,” Pete replied, smiling. “I’m looking for Patrick Stump?”

“Are you? And what do I get if I tell you where he is?” He saw a flicker of something behind her, it almost looked like a fox. But Pete wasn't deterred.

“Twenty percent off your next purchase at Prince Charmer’s, and a free drink from the cafe,” Pete offered. He knew these animal witch types, they were always looking for a bargain.

She smiled again and offered her hand. “Deal.” They shook on it, making it a binding contract. “I’m Foxes, by the way.”

“Uh, hey, nice to meet you, I’m Pete,” he said. He highly doubted it was her given name. But then again his given name was Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III, and he hated it. “So you know Patrick?”

She nodded as she led him into the building. The front had been lovely, with tall glass windows. But the hallway reminded Pete of a tomb. The winter chill was just setting in, though there were still a few weeks of fall left. The stark white halls paired with the gray carpet didn't feel very welcoming.

Foxes certainly wasn't helping. She had a mischievous smile on her face as she said, “Sort of. Sometimes I share my lunch with him. He always says he forgot his, and he never has pocket money. Which is weird because of how much he works.”

“Oh?” Pete said, hoping he didn't sound over eager. But he did wonder what else Patrick did for money.

“Yeah. He works part time at the student bookstore, gives piano lessons to anyone who wants them, I think he even panhandles but that could just be a rumor. But he never has money. I think it all goes to his classes or something.”

“I didn't know that,” Pete replied. He was desperate for more, but it felt too much like prying. He knew Patrick would be pissed, as he was a pretty private person. While Patrick had opened up to Pete more, he was still quiet on other subjects. Finances being one. Pete made a mental note to increase his pay for the gigs in the store. He deserved it anyway, with all the foot traffic he was bringing in.

She led Pete to a lecture hall, placed a hand over her lips and went, “Shhhh.” He felt a wave of magic wash over him, and was ready to protest. But then Foxes said, “It’s so they don't see us coming in. Relax. You don't want to disturb the learning process do you?” Pete wasn't sure about this girl, but he followed her in anyway.

They were in the back of the hall, and Patrick was at the front. Even from their distance, Pete could see Patrick was pissed. His neck and ears were red, and his hand was clenched into a fist. Pete knew that if he were facing him, Patrick’s lips would be a narrow line of frustration.

The teacher, a smug looking asshole in a turtleneck, was holding up some notebook paper and prattling on about what was on it. “This is a perfect example of what not to do, so I suppose I should thank you for that Mr. Stump. When I say I want classical style compositions I do not mean classic rock! Beethoven, Mozart, Haydn, these are the composers you should take inspiration from! Not some 70s glitter soaked gender confused rock star!”

At that, Pete was ready to storm up and give the guy a piece of his mind. But Foxes grabbed his arm and said, “Don't.”

“Why the fuck not?!” Pete hissed.

“You’ll humiliate him even further if you rush up there,” she told him. “He's gotta fight his own battles. Besides it’s Professor Lewis, everyone knows he's an idiot AND an asshole.”

He was about to argue, but there was a noise that made them both look back. Patrick had gotten his pages back from the teacher, and he said, “I won’t apologize for adding guitars and bass. The guitar has been around for centuries and bass cellos even longer. They’re legitimate instruments for classical and contemporary composition.”

“Funny, I don't remember Beethoven’s 5th having a guitar solo,” Lewis replied smugly, and a couple of the students laughed. “You will rewrite these sections for either woodwind or strings, REAL string instruments, or I will fail you on the final.” He then turned to the rest of the class and said, “I think we’ve had enough excitement for today. Class dismissed.” And he left.

Patrick was still visibly fuming as he packed his things, and other students were filing past Pete and Foxes. One muttered, “He’s in the wrong class.”

“Not like there's rock comp,” the other replied. “Fuck Lewis, he's a prick.”

Foxes said to Pete, “Now you can go to him.” And he did, feeling her magic slide off of him the farther he got. The lecture hall was now deserted, and Patrick was just slinging his bag onto his back when Pete stepped in front of him and waved.

“Pete! What are you doing here?” Patrick was turning red again, but with the way he refused to meet Pete’s gaze, it was likely from embarrassment.

“Came to see you,” Pete replied. “So… That guy was an ass. He the one you were complaining about?”

Patrick didn't respond, instead he left the room. Pete followed after him, and he grinned and tackle hugged Patrick, saying, “Hey! Let me treat you to some coffee! You're a student you need that to live, right?”

Pete thought Patrick would be mad, as he’d nearly knocked them both down. But instead, he turned and laughed. “Coffee sounds good.”

They walked to the campus cafe, and Pete said, “Don't feel pressured to answer but… Does that guy have it out for you?”

“He nit picks everything I turn in. And it’s not like I’m going out of my way to piss him off. The assignment said to write a classic score, and that's what I did. He doesn't approve because I threw in electric guitars and bass.”

“Seems kinda narrow minded.”

“Yeah well, I need his class to graduate, especially if I wanna stay on the index.”

Pete blinked at that. “The what?” They'd arrived at the cafe, and there was a pretty long line. They got to the back, and Patrick explained.

“DePaul has a musician index. People contact the university if they need, say, violin players for a wedding or a piano player for a party, that kind of thing. Juniors and seniors can audition for the list, and you stay on it for five years after you graduate.”

“So… We’re not paying you enough at the store,” Pete said, and Patrick’s eyes widened.

“No! No no it’s not like that. I signed up so I could get more playing experience. It doesn't pay much to be honest, and sometimes it doesn't at all,” said Patrick. “I… I kind of have pretty intense stage fright. I’m trying to get over it.”

“Did you try that picturing people naked trick?” Pete teased, smirking.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “That would make me more nervous, so no. Sometimes I take my glasses off so I can't see anything, but I’ve had a couple accidents doing that so I try not to anymore.”

“Oh. I don't see what you're worried about though, you've got like, a crazy amount of talent. Look how popular you are at Prince Charmer’s,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I was meaning to ask you about that,” Patrick admitted. He shuffled his feet a bit, staring at the ground. “You're not… Influencing people, right?”

Pete’s heart slowed, blood rushing to his face. “What do you mean?”

“You kinda have this, I guess charisma? I noticed it when we first met. People really like you Pete. You…” Patrick gulped, and finally spit out what he wanted to say. “You're not telling people to tell me I’m good, are you?”

Pete sighed in relief, but then frowned. “What? No! Of course not! Those people lining up to meet you, that's all on you. Believe me I WISH I could make people do stuff like that.” Technically, Pete knew that he could, with the right spell, but he chose not to. While he scoffed at the “rule of three” and do no harm, he usually tried not to be an asshole.

They reached the counter, and ordered their drinks. When they sat down with them Patrick said, “Sorry just… I've heard me, I’m not that good you know? And I get really limited practice time.”

“Why’s that?” Pete asked.

“I can’t practice at home,” he replied. “And the good rooms here are almost impossible to book. Seniors do get preferential treatment, but I’m kind of on the bottom rung when it comes to that.”

“Hm. That's some bullshit,” Pete said, a plan forming in his head. “You know, if you do need to practice, you can use my place. I’m almost never in it during the day and it’s soundproofed.”

Patrick frowned. “I dunno…”

“Really, it’s cool. You can play whatever you want and no one will bug you. I’ll stay down in the shop and make sure you’re left alone.”

Patrick didn't answer right away, instead chewing his lip as he considered his options. Pete waited, sipping his coffee as he did. Finally, Patrick said, “I'll think about it.”

“Cool. Now what do you say we go have some fun?”

“What kinda fun?”

“Harmless, I promise.”

Patrick laughed at that and shook his head. “I doubt it. But yeah, I’m up for some fun.”

* * *

Pete heard giggling. He KNEW it was giggling, but he was slightly occupied. Texting Patrick probably didn't count as occupied, but Pete was trying to ask Patrick out and it wasn't going well. Mostly because Patrick couldn't believe someone would ever ask him out in the first place. Pete really had to think of something to do in order to lift Patrick's self esteem.

He felt like he was close, but then he heard a squeal and something falling over. Pete got up and went to investigate. He opened the door to the stock room, and found several books scattered on the ground. He also found Brendon pressed against the wall by Gabe, the two furiously making out. Brendon was breathing hard through his nose, fingers curled into the lapel of Gabe's jacket. Gabe had one hand fisted in Brendon's hair, the other gripping his ass.

Pete's jaw dropped, and for a moment he was too stunned to say anything. But that didn't last long. "What the FUCK you guys?!"

They broke apart, practically jumping away from each other. They turned to Pete, guilt written all over their faces. Brendon's hair was a mess, his clothes were in a state of disarray, and his lips were red and slick with saliva. Gabe's color was high, and he was breathing hard, but other than that he was perfectly composed. "Uh... Hey Pete," said Gabe.

"Don't fucking 'hey' me!" He gestured to the fallen books and asked, "Since when is it okay to destroy our products? You guys wanna make out back here that's fine but don't fucking knock shit over!" Pete kneeled to pick the books up, and Brendon joined him. Gabe however was laughing.

"You're so full of shit, Pete. That's not even what you're mad about."

"It also would be nice to know my assistant manager and my cafe manager are fucking since you're two of my best friends," Pete added.

Brendon blushed, then said, "Sorry. It's kind of new?"

"That's fine but keep me in the loop next time." He and Brendon finished tidying up the books, and Brendon left the stock room, still blushing and trying to pull his clothes back into order.

Gabe smirked at Pete and asked, "No luck with your genius hottie?"

"No. He's got, like, the worst self esteem of anyone I've ever met. I've asked him out twice now and he still thinks I'm fucking with him." Pete sighed and leaned against the wall. "I don't know how to convince him that I'm genuine."

"Maybe try one of your patented over dramatic displays. If you humiliate yourself to ask him out he might realize you're actually into him." Gabe patted Pete's shoulder and said, "Good luck," then left the stock room.

Pete thought about it. Gabe actually had a point. And Pete was sure there had to be something Patrick would like. And he was pretty sure that Gabe was right. Patrick had pretty poor self esteem, and he treated every request for a date as though it were some kind of sick joke.

He then grinned and texted Patrick, “can i come by the skool tmrow?”

_Why?_

“so i can ask u out again.”

_You're not putting public pressure on me to accept._

"it'll be u & me promise no pressure except on myself pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?”

There was a delay, and the texting box popped up six times, as though Patrick were trying to think of a response then erasing it. Patrick then sent back, _Fine._

Pete grinned and put his phone away. If Patrick didn't say yes after this, there was no hope.

* * *

Pete was nervous, so much his palms were sweating. He wiped them on his jeans, clutching the fabric. But he pulled his hands away and stood when the door opened. Patrick was frowning a bit, and he asked, “Pete? Why are we meeting here?”

They were in one of the studios at the school, specifically the only one with a piano. It hadn’t been easy to secure the space, but with a quick spell cast on the right person, Pete had done it. It was late, but they still had an hour or two before they had to get out. Patrick was hesitant, but he closed the door after himself. He turned back to Pete, pursing his lips and arms loosely crossed over his stomach.

“Because this is part of my awesome and super duper plan to get you to go out with me,” Pete replied, grinning. He was still nervous that Patrick was going to shoot him down, but either way, this would be a good thing for Patrick.

“Pete--” Patrick groaned, but Pete held his hands up.

“Hear me out, okay?” Pete said, holding up his hands. “Look, you said you can’t practice at home, and you’re trying to save up for studio time right?”

“Yeah.”

“This way you don’t have to worry about either.” Pete smiled as he took a slip of paper out of his pocket, and handed it to Patrick.

Patrick looked it over, and his jaw dropped. “You managed to secure me studio time for the whole spring semester?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“I always get shafted for that! I… How the hell did you do it?”

“Magic.” Pete smiled as Patrick laughed. Though it was the truth, of course Patrick had no idea.

“So, you’re bribing me?” Patrick asked, frowning now. “I mean, this is  great, but I’m not taking it if I only get it by dating you.”  
  
“No,” said Pete, frowning as well. “No this is not a bribe. I mean, if you’ll let me come and listen to you sing sometimes? That’d be awesome. But this is yours, I promise.”

Patrick looked at the paper again, and did something Pete did not expect. He collapsed onto the piano bench and started crying. Aliens could have blown in the door and declared that Pete was their king right that moment, and it still wouldn’t have surprised him more than Patrick crying. Pete sat next to him, and gently rubbed his back. “I was kinda hoping you’d like, cheer, or smile.”

“I’m crying because I’m happy, you stupid douche,” Patrick told him.

“Uh, yay?” Pete said, and Patrick chuckled.

He hugged Pete and said, “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me!”

“Yeah I do,” he reminded Patrick. “You told me you were saving for studio time when we met.”

“You remember that?” Patrick asked, pulling away to look at Pete.

“Well, yeah.”

Patrick stared at him, and then slowly smiled. “So you really like me?”

“Of course I do, that’s why I asked you out,” Pete pointed out. “And this is probably overkill, but…” Pete picked up a moleskine from the top of the piano, and handed it to Patrick.

“What’s this?” Patrick asked, opening it.

“Music composition notebook. It’s a good quality one too, I promise,” said Pete. “I got it from the same place I get my notebooks.”

Patrick ran his hands over the pages, gently turning them. He then smiled and said, “No one’s ever done something like this for me.”

“Yeah, well, people should. You’re awesome, Patrick, I don’t want you to ever forget that. And THAT is why I wanna go out with you.”

He was quiet, as he looked over the pages. He was smiling softly, his eyes still wet with tears. He then said, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll go out with you,” Patrick said to Pete.

Pete grinned and hugged him again. “You won’t regret it!”

“I already do.”

Pete frowned. “Wait really?”

Patrick laughed. “No, man. Not at all. Thank you, for all of this.”

“Thank you for saying yes. Don’t worry I’ve got everything planned, it’s gonna be great.”

“Planned?”

“Yeah for the first date! I have a great idea and you’re gonna love it.”

Patrick frowned. “I’m going to regret this, I just know it.”

But he and Pete both laughed and they hugged again.

Suddenly, things didn’t look so gloomy for either of them. Pete was happy, Patrick was happy, and everything was going to be all right. At least for the time being. Pete couldn’t help but worry that something would ruin this. But he shook his head clear of those thoughts. He promised himself it wouldn’t happen this time. He’d be a better boyfriend and everything Patrick deserved.

* * *

Pete was grinning as he walked up the steps, Patrick next to him. He said, “You’re gonna love this, Trick! I thought about this super hard and this is gonna be the best!”

“Where are we exactly?” Patrick asked.

“Best place in the world for a first date, especially in December,” Pete told him. He gestured behind him and said, “Voila!”

Patrick stepped up to the railing and looked around, then said to Pete, “No.”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yes!”

“I’m not doing this.”

“Yes you are, because I’m gonna take you to Korean barbecue afterwards,” said Pete, still grinning.

Patrick looked a bit unsure. “Really?”

“Yeah, there’s a great place about four blocks from here. I promise, it’ll be fun.”

He still looked hesitant, but he followed Pete to the skate rental. The ice rink was beautiful, and it was certainly cold out, that was no surprise for Chicago. But it was a crisp cold, rather than mind numbing, perfect ice skating weather. Pete was feeling a bit manic again, he’d managed to twist himself up in knots before the date happened. And the best way for him to get it out was to do something physical.

Patrick, he knew, wasn’t very physically inclined. But it was something fun they could do together, and even if Patrick didn’t like ice skating, Pete knew he loved Korean barbecue. So hopefully, that would make up for it.

“Have you ever been ice skating before?” Pete asked, paying for the rentals.

“Once or twice,” Patrick replied. “I wasn’t any good at it.”

“Come on, I can show you some moves.”

It took three tries, but finally Pete managed to get Patrick out on the ice. Pete smiled as he guided Patrick, getting him used to the skates. Patrick said, “You came up with this just so you could teach me how, didn’t you?”

“Nah, if I were gonna do something like that I’d have taken you to a basketball court, or a soccer field.”

“Winter’s coming, there’s no way there's a soccer field we could use.”

Pete laughed and said, “Aren't you supposed to say 'winter is coming' in like a super gravelly Ned Stark voice?” Pete teased.

Patrick frowned at him. “I don't know what that means.”

Pete’s eyebrows raised, and he asked, “You haven't seen Game of Thrones?!”

“I’ve heard of it but I’ve never watched it,” Patrick told him. “Doesn't really seem like my kinda thing.”

“What IS your kinda thing?” Pete asked. “There's gotta be something you're nerdy over besides music.”

They'd done two circuits around the rink now, and Patrick seemed to be thinking about it. Finally, he said, “Star Wars, Doctor Who, and Batman.”

“Okay, totally willing to overlook the whole Whovian thing just because you like Star Wars and Batman, but that does lead to some follow up questions.” Pete told him.

“Hey fuck you!” Patrick said, smacking his arm and laughing. “Doctor Who is awesome!”

“Whatever, nerd,” said Pete and Patrick rolled his eyes. “Empire or Rebellion?”

“Are you on drugs? Rebellion.”

“Favorite Batman villain?”

“Two Face, or Scarecrow. But mostly Two Face.”

Pete blinked. “Really? How does that happen?”

“I always felt bad for Harvey Dent that he was caught between two personalities. One side of him is the same man who was Gotham’s DA, a crusader for justice. The other, a psychotic murderer,” Patrick said softly. “I guess I could relate.”

“How? You're not a psychotic murderer. I don't think you have a mean bone in your body,” Pete told him.

“Shows what you know,”

Patrick looked sad, so Pete said, “Hey watch this!” He pulled away, Patrick managing to skate just fine on his own. Pete sped around the rink, faster and faster, dodging through people and narrowly avoiding running into a group of teenage girls. He skated on one foot, he did turns, and jumps. And just as he was making his way back to Patrick, he tripped over his own two feet and fell hard on the ice.

Patrick skated over, asking, “Are you okay?!”

“Yeah I’m good,” Pete said. He was embarrassed, but he could recover. Or could have. He took Patrick’s hand, but ended up knocking them both down. Patrick’s hat had come off, and he was staring at Pete. It was hard to tell if he was shocked or angry.

But after a moment, they both cracked up. Patrick laughed so hard he was wheezing, and Pete asked, “You okay?”

He pulled an inhaler out of his pocket, and took a hit. He then said, “Yeah, fine.”

“I didn't know you had asthma.”

“It's not as bad as it used to be,” Patrick told him. He looked uncomfortable, so Pete changed the subject.

“You wanna skate a couple laps then go get food?”

“That sounds nice.”

They ended up skating for almost an hour. They talked, and made each other laugh. When they returned the skates, Patrick was still a bit wobbly, but Pete steadied him. The dinner was even better. It turned out, Patrick was quite the connoisseur of Korean cuisine.

The night was perfect. Pete wanted to drop Patrick off at home, but Patrick insisted he could walk. But he kissed Pete’s cheek and said, “Text me,” before walking away. His cheeks were pink from the cold, and some embarrassment.

Pete was so happy he felt like he could fly home.

* * *

Pete was on top of the world. It had been a successful third date with Patrick, and Patrick was starting to open up more in a way that made Pete’s heart pound. The store was doing well, and while Gabe, Victoria, and Ryan were still giving him shit about his “puppy love” he couldn't have cared less. He’d been humming a tune Patrick wrote all morning, and was practically dancing around the store. Gabe tried to trip him but Pete had simply leapt over his foot then flipped him off.

Everything was roses, at least until he saw a familiar flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye.

He spun around, to see Daisy Moon herself browsing the shelves. Pete nearly tripped three times as he made his way over to Brendon, who was taking inventory over by the stairs. “B! I need you to do something for me like, right now,” Pete said in a harsh whisper.

“Uh… Okay?” Brendon raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“I need you to go over there and see if that’s Daisy Moon.”

Brendon looked where Pete was pointing, then back at Pete. “Seriously?”

“See if she needs help or something! Then get her out of my fucking store!” Pete said, and scrambled up the stairs to the reading loft. It was the best place to spy on customers, and was the dividing line between the cafe and the bookstore. A few people were at tables with coffees and spellbooks in hand, but Pete ignored them as he went to the railing, staring down as Brendon approached Daisy.

They talked, Daisy smiling at him. She looked wonderful, her forelocks in loose braids, tied back from her face and melding into a larger braid that went down her back. She wore a delicate pink dress, that reminded Pete of cherry blossom leaves. He caught the glint of a crystal at her throat, and glass beads around her wrist. He wondered if her eyes were the same pale gray as always, or if the dress warmed them to blue.

She and Brendon talked, and there wasn't a trace of the fear or anger he’d seen in her the last time they'd talked. She looked good, happy, actually. And Pete was surprised to see three spellbooks in her arms. Brendon laughed at something she said, then walked over to another section, Daisy following.

Pete followed along in the loft, nearly knocking over a table in the process which caused a very grumpy looking hag to flip him off. He apologized and kept moving, wanting to see what they were doing.

Brendon selected a book for her, and she smiled and inclined her head. It was something she always did when she said thank you, Pete remembered. One of those little idiosyncrasies that was just… Daisy. They talked a little more, and he led her to the register where Ryan rang her up. He didn't seem to recognize her, or if he did, he didn't care.

Daisy inclined her head again, and walked through the bookstore over to the cafe. Pete ran to the opposite railing, desperate to see what she would do next. She went to the counter and talked to Gabe, who was smiling at her in return. He laughed at something she said, and made a coffee for her. As he did, she slipped a bill into the tip jar, and shoved the books she’d bought into the bag she’d brought with her.

It was a small bag, and they were pretty large books. But they went right in as though Daisy were Mary Poppins. His eyes widened when he realized what it meant. Daisy wasn't a Banal anymore. She was a Charmer. Pete knew he should have realized it sooner. When he thought about it, why else would she be buying spellbooks? And she’d have to be fairly far along in her studies now, at least to be able to cast a spell like that.

He wanted to run downstairs and confront her. Ask her why she was suddenly doing magic. Demand to know where she had disappeared to for three months after they broke up. Why she’d suddenly started returning his calls after that. But instead, he was frozen. He could only watch as she got her coffee. As she waved to Victoria. As she walked out the door, the spring breeze ruffling her skirt. As she disappeared across the street.

Pete finally snapped out of it, and made a mad dash down the stairs. He ran through the bookstore and out the cafe door, looking around for her. But Daisy was gone, and Pete wasn't sure how to feel. He was sad, and angry that there was so much left unsaid between them. But he was also relieved that they wouldn't have to hash it out, at least not that day.

He came back inside, and could feel everyone’s eyes on him. He ignored them and went to his office, where he stayed until well after closing time. Pete was getting a fairly good brood on, when the door to his office opened. Gabe came in, closing it quietly behind him.

“You okay?” Gabe asked.

Pete snorted, and Gabe shrugged and sat on Pete’s desk. Which startled the Grimalkin Bird out of a dead sleep. She glared at Gabe, then went back to snoozing in her little cat bed on the edge of the desk.

“So… Daisy.”

“I don't want to talk about her.”

“That’s great, because I have a story to tell about Daisy and I am in SUCH a storytelling mood. All you gotta do is sit there and listen.”

“Like hell I do,” said Pete, but Gabe whistled, and Pete heard the door to the office lock. He groaned, then said, “Unlock the door.”

“Fuck you, not until you listen to the story.”

Pete rolled his eyes, but gestured for Gabe to continue. Gabe stretched out on the desk until he was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The Grimalkin Bird looked fairly put out, but decided to settle on Gabe’s stomach instead. He smiled and scratched her cheeks in apology, which she loudly purred at, her wings gently beating at the air. Pete vaguely wished he hadn't decided to get such a huge desk, but to be fair it did double as an altar, and sometimes a Charmer just needed an altar.

“So once upon a time, there was an ordinary woman who loved flowers, who met a man she thought was ordinary too. And she fell in love with him. He was handsome, talented, and great in bed, so what wasn't to love? Everything was going great, or so she thought. You see, she didn't know this man was as far from ordinary as you can get. And he had no idea this flower woman wasn't ordinary either, but she wasn't weird in the same way he was.

“She felt terrible for keeping this secret from him, and was going to confide in him. But before she could, the man revealed his true nature, and scared her away. This flower woman, who wasn't ordinary but liked to think she was, was frightened and had no one to turn to for fear of being locked away, like she had been before.”

“What do you mean “before”?” Pete asked, frowning.

“Shush, I am telling a story,” Gabe replied, then continued. “So for months, she had a terrible secret pressing on her. That the man was not ordinary. And there was no one she could tell, because the flower woman wasn't ordinary either, and knew no one would believe her. Low and behold, this woman met another woman, who also wasn't ordinary, but instead was strange like the man. She was a fox woman, and she assured this flower woman that she was not crazy, and offered to teach her magic.

“So for a year and a day, the flower woman learned magic. She tried to speak with the man, but he shunned her. This hurt her heart, but she was determined to learn. And one day, she found she needed books to further her education. Which found her in the same shop owned by the man. Rather than speak to her on his own, he hid, and sent his minions to deal with her.

“This hurt her heart as well, but she told herself to be strong. She was, and she received the books she needed. And the man hid from her like a fucking coward. The end.”

Pete glared at Gabe, then poked him in the side. “What’s your point?”

“The moral of the story is don't be a coward,” said Gabe, who flipped him off.

“Your story sucks.”

“Yeah I know the ending’s kinda weak, but if someone had actually talked to the woman instead of being a fucking chicken shit, maybe it wouldn't be.”

“What did you mean by--” But Gabe shook his head.

He carefully lifted the Grimalkin Bird and sat up, depositing it back on its bed. Gabe then hopped off Pete’s desk and said, “I told you a story. You want the details, you’re gonna have to talk to Daisy.” And with that, Gabe walked out of the office.

Pete looked over at the Grimalkin Bird and muttered, “I fucking hate that guy.”

The Grimalkin Bird gave him a baleful look, then curled up and went back to sleep.

* * *

The storm outside was terrible, and reminded Pete of that old song about letting it snow. Pete was tempted to make it stop, as the snow had been going for ages. It couldn't last, as spring would be arriving soon. The winter had been lovely; Christmas had been fun, and New Years even more so. He'd spent both with his friends rather than going home, and Patrick had stopped by for both. Pete was in a great mood lately, and he knew it was entirely because of Patrick.

Pete was laughing as Laura Jane sat down. She’d managed to summon a gnome with a dirty limerick, and they were still laughing about the rhyme as she banished it. He grinned at her and said, “That was amazing, nice work.” She smiled at him and handed Pete the paper she’d been holding, and he added it to the pile on the table.

It had been a lot of fun, with every student writing a spell to summon a mythical creature. He’d particularly enjoyed the pixies that Hayley called. And he’d been surprised as anyone when Brendon managed to conjure a unicorn. Pete stood and asked, “Is that everyone?” He hoped so. He had a date with Patrick and was already late.

“No we still have one more,” Bebe told him, then gestured to Travie. “C’mon, you’re up.”

Travie got up, and Pete and Bebe sat down. Pete had a nagging feeling, something bad was going to happen. He wasn’t really listening to Travie, who was rapping to summon whatever he had decided on. Pete was looking around the shop, at the faces of his students, all of whom were watching Travie with amazement.

But then, Pete saw it. Patrick was outside, walking up the street. He looked in the window briefly, and headed for the door. When he stepped inside was when Travie finished the spell. Pete and Brendon were both on their feet at once, just as a dragon manifested right in the middle of the store.

Students were clapping, but Patrick was standing in the doorway, eyes wide with fear. Pete held a hand out and said a quick spell, and the dragon vanished. Brendon was already at Patrick’s side, and he put a hand over his eyes. Pete dodged around Halsey and Joe, and went to Patrick’s other side.

“What are you doing?” Pete asked. Brendon was muttering something into Patrick’s ear, and suddenly Patrick went slack. Pete tried to keep him up, but Patrick was nothing but dead weight.

Andy and Joe had come over by this time, and they helped lower Patrick to the ground. Pete knelt beside him, checking his pulse. It was sluggish, and there was a sheen of sweat on Patrick’s skin. He had gone so pale that Patrick practically resembled a corpse.

Pete looked at Brendon, who had gone white as a sheet. “What the hell did you do to him?” Pete seethed. He stood again, hands clenched into fists. Pete had never been so angry in his life. Andy was on his feet as well, and grabbed Pete by the shoulder. It wasn't until he did that that Pete even knew he’d been advancing on Brendon.

“I...I’m sorry, I panicked,” Brendon said, and looked close to crying. He was shaking like a leaf, and Laura Jane, Halsey, and Travie were now between him and Pete.

Gabe appeared, and gently kissed Brendon’s cheek. Pete was kneeling by Patrick again as Gabe moved around the rest of the class. He knelt, and looked Patrick over. Gabe opened his eyes, checking behind his ears, studying his fingernails. He then said, “He’s fine. Brendon just knocked him out.”

Pete sighed in relief, trembling as his muscles unclenched. Bebe was talking to the rest of the class, but Pete wasn't listening. For a moment, he was terrified he'd lose Patrick the same way that he lost Daisy. Pete looked up at Brendon, and saw that he was several feet away, sobbing into Gabe’s chest. Pete hadn't even registered that Gabe had moved. As he looked around, he saw that most everyone had gone, except for Gabe, Brendon, Andy, and Joe.

“So hey, did you know your eyes glow when you're mad?” Joe asked.

“...They do?”

“Yeah, they were glowing red. It was extra creepy,” Andy told him. “Want us to help get him upstairs? Gabe said he’s probably gonna be out for a while.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks.”

Andy moved his hand, and Patrick was hovering four feet off the floor. Pete dashed ahead of them to the upstairs apartment, opening the door and guiding them into the room. Joe was following Andy, and he said, “So I think you scarred Brendon for life.”

“I didn't mean to,” Pete said quietly. He led Andy into the bedroom, where he gently placed Patrick on the bed.

“Yeah well, you should probably do something nice for him. And not yell at him like, ever.” Joe replied. “He's a nice kid.”

Pete wasn’t really listening. Instead he was pulling Patrick’s shoes off, trying to make him comfortable. Patrick didn’t stir, and it made Pete’s heart clench. Even though he knew that Patrick would be okay, it didn’t assuage Pete. He wanted to stay by his side, but then he saw Gabe in the doorway. Gabe gestured for Pete to follow him, so he got up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Once they were in the living room, Gabe shoved Pete, hard, and said, “What the hell was that Pete?!” Pete stumbled, but managed to stay on his feet. Gabe glared at him. “You scared the living shit out of Brendon! How could you fucking do that?!”  
  
“Look what he did to Patrick!” Pete shot back, but Gabe wouldn’t hear of it.

“Patrick is FINE! I told you he’s fine! Any moron could see that! But no you had to go and fucking bully Brendon and he’s just a kid!” Gabe had advanced on Pete, but instead of being afraid, Pete was equally angry. He shoved Gabe back.

“Brendon could have fucking killed him! What if he’d said the wrong word, huh?”

Gabe grabbed Pete by the collar and shook him. “This is your own fault! You’re the one who won’t tell Patrick about our world! Any danger he ends up in is on you!” Gabe shoved him again, but before things could get more physical, they were separated by Bebe and Lolo. Pete was surprised, as he thought they’d gone home.

“Enough!” Bebe said.

“You gotta stop this,” Lolo added. “Look, Pete this has gone on long enough.”

“Yeah, we’re sick of covering for you,” Bebe was glaring at Pete now, as Gabe loomed over her shoulder. “You have to tell Patrick the truth, because shit like this is gonna keep happening. I mean, unless you want to give up magic all together.”

Pete was silent as he thought on it. He could have a normal life, and he’d have Patrick. Admittedly, Pete didn’t have a lot of skills outside of magic, but he could learn. But then he’d be completely dependent on Patrick, and Pete knew that wasn’t fair to him. Besides, magic was so deeply ingrained in Pete, it would be next to impossible to quit.

He sighed, and said, “I’m going to tweak his memory of the last few hours, and then we’ll have to have Victoria test him to make sure it holds.”

Lolo rolled her eyes and said, “No, fuck that, I’m not helping.” She then stormed out. Bebe gave Pete a venomous look, one tinged with disappointment.

“You’re an idiot,” she told him, and followed after Lolo.

Gabe didn’t say anything, opting instead to leave with the girls.

Pete sighed, and went back to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, and reflected on how beautiful Patrick looked asleep. Pete then put his hand over Patrick’s forehead, and concentrated on the spell he’d need to make it all go away.

* * *

Pete had watched Victoria chatting with Patrick for most of the afternoon. He desperately wanted to know what they talked about, but there was bookkeeping to be done so he couldn't join them. By the time Pete was finished, Patrick had already left. The Grimalkin Bird was staring out the upper window, pouting as it hovered eight feet in the air.

Victoria didn’t seem the least bit surprised when Pete cornered her and asked, “So?” She rolled her eyes, but invited him to sit with her.

“The glamour is holding. Better than it should be, actually. I think it’s likely he doesn’t want to see anything odd,” she replied. She took Pete’s hand and added, “Pete, you should tell him the truth.”

Pete pulled away from her, saying, “I can’t! He’ll freak out!”

“No he won’t. Look, Patrick’s been alone for a long time. His family mistreats him, his classmates ignore him, and he doesn’t have any friends outside this shop. He doesn’t see what’s going on because he’s afraid of the bottom dropping out and being alone again. But if he finds out you’ve been lying to him this whole time, he’s going to leave. He won’t want to, he loves it here. But he will because he hates liars.”

“But if I tell him the truth he’ll leave anyway!” Pete declared.

“Patrick isn’t Daisy,” Victoria countered, and her lips pursed. “And how did you expect her to react? You invited her to a conjuring night without so much as a ‘oh by the way a dryad might appear out of nowhere’! She was completely unprepared and you act like she was the psycho!”

Pete stared, taken aback. “I--” But Victoria wasn’t done. She was on a rampage now and wouldn’t be stopped.

“You always do this! You get all hot and heavy over someone then when things don’t go your way you force a situation where the person breaks up with you, then you act all emo about it for a month and pretend you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m SICK of it! If you weren’t my friend I’d tell you to get a new waitress and definitely a new soothsayer! Don’t fuck this up, Pete, or I may leave when Patrick does.” still looking disgusted, Victoria stormed out of the shop.

Pete sat there, stunned. He’d never seen Victoria that pissed off before, or at least not at him. He looked to where Gabe was sitting behind the counter, and he shrugged. He was surprisingly calm, considering how angry he’d been the night before.  “She’s right, you should tell him.”

“Not again,” Pete whined, but Gabe raised an eyebrow at him.

“You don’t have to do it all at once. Maybe drop some hints, do a few small spells. Ease him into it. Definitely don’t throw him in the deep end like with Daisy,” Gabe said.

Pete groaned. “Why though? Things are going great!”

“No they’re not. You’re stressed and Patrick knows you’re hiding something.” Gabe hopped over the counter and took the seat Victoria had vacated. “Seriously man, you should tell him.”

“Why am I getting the feeling you all like Patrick more than me?” Pete pouted.

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a drama king. We all like Patrick, and we love you. But if this thing blows up in your faces it’s gonna be Patrick left out in the cold.”

“I thought he had friends though, family,” Pete was feeling uneasy now, and Gabe nodded.

“He has a friend, but she’s one of us too. You know that indie chick that comes in here sometimes with that group of kitsune?"

"Yeah, I've met her," Pete said, remembering that day on campus. "Long hair, huge brown eyes? Kinda looks like an anime character?"

 "That's her. Also, doesn’t help that his family are assholes, he only lives with them because it’s cheaper than the dorms.”

“He didn’t tell me that,” Pete admitted.

“Yeah, he’s got his own secrets. And before you ask, he didn’t tell me, I overheard him talking to Vicky. So… You guys should really talk.” Gabe got up and squeezed Pete’s shoulder, then went back behind the counter.

Pete knew it was true. While he thought things were going great with Patrick, he knew the two of them would have to air things out. It did hurt Pete that Patrick had been suffering in silence, but given that Pete had been keeping secrets too, he knew he shouldn’t point any fingers. Pete went back upstairs, mind still on Patrick and how he’d handle magic.

* * *

The winter snows were melting away, and spring was practically on their doorstep. Pete wanted to be out to enjoy it. Instead he was cooped up in his office because there was work to be done. He was rubbing his face, unsure of what he was going to do. He knew that Ryan was right, and they needed help. Between the sudden surge of Pete’s fans, and Patrick’s gigs at the store, the five of them simply weren’t enough to handle the foot traffic. He was glad that Lolo had agreed to help out part time, but they really needed another person for full time. Even with the store only open at certain hours five days a week, they simply didn’t have a handle on it.

Pete was just about to give up and go for a run, when he felt something brush against his foot. He looked around for the Grimalkin Bird, but saw that it was hovering by the upper window, watching birds. He frowned, and pulled back, sure that there was something under his desk. Pete couldn’t see anything for a moment, so he got down on his hands and knees.

He was surprised when a small, animal darted out to look at him. He frowned, thinking it looked like a green lizard, which wasn’t terribly surprising in a magic shop. Though not something he saw often. He held a finger out, saying, “Hey little dude, how’d you get here?”

Suddenly, the lizard’s mouth opened, and bright blue sparks came out. Pete jumped, and hit his head on the desk. He fell back, and Pete was surprised to see small wings extend from its back. They were a deep pink, and quite thin, Pete wasn’t sure that it would be able to fly. And he was right, the little dragon hissed once more and ran out from under the desk and out of Pete’s office.

Pete got to his feet, running after it. He skidded on the floor in the shop, nearly falling over as he did. He came pretty close to knocking over one of the bookshelves, and Pete had to wrap his arms around a loft post to keep from falling over. This of course alerted Ryan and Brendon, who seemed to pop up out of nowhere.

“Pete, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Brendon asked, bewildered.

“Dragon!” Pete said, pointing at the ground.  
  
Ryan turned to look at it, then laughed. “It’s tiny.” He went over and picked it up. The dragon blew sparks again, but Ryan paid it no mind. “This must be the one Travie summoned a while back. I’d forgotten about it.”

“How do you forget a dragon?” Brendon asked, while Pete stared at him incredulously.

“We kind of had a lot going on that night,” Ryan reminded them. The little dragon had curled around his hand, and seemed to be fairly content with sucking on one of his fingers. “I think I’ll keep him.”

“What?!” Pete and Brendon said in unison.

“Well, why not? He’ll be this size most of the time, and even if he does expand my place is big enough to deal with it.”

Pete remembered then, that Ryan lived in a converted warehouse. If there was anywhere in the city that would be good for a dragon, a warehouse would be it. Pete asked, “Do you know how to take care of a dragon?”

“I don’t have the same affinity for animals as a beast witch, but I know enough. I can take care of him,” said Ryan.

“I don’t get it,” said Brendon, stepping closer. He held out his hand, which the dragon sniffed, then snorted at. “Travie summoned a regular dragon, didn’t he?”

“It was a juvenile, a full size dragon wouldn’t fit in here,” Ryan corrected. “Pete came up with that spell on the fly to get rid of it.”

Pete sighed. “I was trying to banish it, I didn’t mean to shrink it.”

“I’m pretty sure he could change back if he wanted to,” Ryan assured him. “He just doesn’t want to.”

“How can you tell?” Brendon asked.

“Pete scared the shit out of him and he’s still only three inches long. Also he’s not biting me.”

Pete sighed, then said, “All right, keep it. Just don’t let the Grimalkin Bird get at it, I don’t want the smell of singed hair in here.”

Ryan smiled, for the first time in a while. “Sure thing boss.”

* * *

Pete had been debating for weeks, ever since the night with the dragon. Watching Ryan play with the damned thing like it was a pet made Pete think about what everyone had said. He wanted to tell Patrick, but he was afraid. It wasn't helping that they hadn't had time to hang out lately, as school had started back up and it was Patrick's last semester before graduation. Pete had called, and Patrick sounded so stressed out that Pete wanted to help. He still had Patrick's address and wondered if he should use it. 

It didn't take long for him to decide. Pete went over, and knocked on the door. The woman who answered gave Pete the once over, and said, "Who the hell are you?" She was disheveled, her hair was a mess and her clothes were rumpled and soiled. She looked like she was wearing last night's make up, and had a cigarette between her lips.

"I'm Pete, I'm looking for Patrick?" He said, giving her his most winning smile.

The woman rolled her eyes and shouted up the steps, "Hey, fat ass! Someone here to see you!" And she walked away from the door, leaving it open. Pete took that as an invitation, and entered the house.

It wasn't the ritz, that was for sure. It looked like someone was doing their best to keep it tidy, but was having trouble keeping up. It didn't help that it was quite noisy in the house. Pete was pretty sure there were at least three televisions on, and when he peeked into the living room, he saw the woman sit next to an equally slovenly man, who was also smoking.

The man was balding, with dark hair, and was stick thin like the woman. But there was a grayish tinge to his skin, and Pete wasn't sure if it was because of the low light or something else. He looked over at Pete and nudged the woman, asking, “Gail, who the fuck is that fag?”

“Some friend of the kid’s, I dunno,” she replied, not taking her eyes off the television.

The man smirked and said, “Hey, you a gigolo?” He then laughed at his own joke and elbowed the woman. “Only way that fat ass is gonna get laid!”

Pete bristled at that, and was ready to yell at him Patrick’s father or no. But he looked up when he heard footsteps on the stairs, and Patrick stood there, his face flushed. "Uh, hey Pete."

"Hey," Pete replied.

Patrick took his hand and led him upstairs without saying another word. When they were safely in Patrick's room, he sighed and said, "You shouldn't have come."

"I wanted to see you." Patrick's room was spotless, and even on an off day he was better put together than the people downstairs. "So... Those are your parents?"

"Yeah," Patrick replied, sitting at his desk.

"They're..."

"They're fucking assholes, but they let me live here rent free so long as I do some housekeeping," said Patrick. His desk was practically drowning in papers and books. He gathered the papers together and shoved them in a binder, and then closed a few books and put them aside.

"Some? What do you mean some?" Pete asked, flopping on the bed.

"I clean, I cook, that kinda thing."

"Aaaand what do your parents do?"

Patrick laughed bitterly. "When they're not at work they lie around drinking, smoking, and watching TV." He closed a notebook, before turning to Pete and adding, "So do you have a reason for being here or did you just wanna poke fun at my life?"

"I'm not poking fun," Pete assured him. "Why don't you leave?"

"Because the few friends I have can't afford to take me in, and I don't make nearly enough to get a dorm room. I'm barely meeting my expenses for school." Patrick slammed one of the books closed. "So if you're going to make fun of me--"

"I'm not, I swear, but... They don't really seem to like you," Pete said.

"That's because they don't," Patrick told him. "The only reason they still let me live here is because they need someone to take care of them." Patrick sounded close to crying.

Pete got up and knelt in front of Patrick, then wrapped his arms around his waist. He laid his head on Patrick's knee and said, "You're too good for them. Move in with me."

Patrick ran his fingers through Pete's hair. "I can't."

"Why not?" Pete asked, looking up at him.

"Because that's moving way too fast for me, and I don’t think you’re offering from an entirely selfless place. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I can't," Patrick replied.

Pete frowned at that and stood up. “Why not? What have you got to lose besides some dead weight?”

“My dignity, or at least what little I have of it.”

“What are they doing for you exactly? Sure they let you live here but are they… Do they take care of you at all?”

At that, Patrick flushed. He tugged at his collar, then on the brim of his hat. “At least I’ve got a roof over my head.”

“What about food, clothes, hell how about just a little affection? Do they give you any of that?” Pete was getting pissed, and his hands balled into fists.

Patrick glared at him, standing as well. “They don't, all right?! They don't give me anything except a place to live! Now if you're done making me feel like shit about my life you can fucking leave!”

“You're in a bad situation and you know it! And you just wanna fucking stay? That's crazy!”

“I don't!” Patrick insisted. “I don't want to stay! But people have tried to “save” me before.” He did finger quotes as he said it. “And it always ends the same way. I’m too fucked up for them, too high strung, and I’m out on my ass and end up back here! So no, Pete, I’m not gonna move in with you! I don't accept charity and I sure as hell won't accept your pity!”

He was taken aback at that, and he stared at Patrick. He wanted to take him home, lift the curse, show him how much more there was to this world. But Patrick looked so… The only word for it was hurt. Sure he was angry, but his eyes were moist, and Patrick looked like he was about to cry.

Pete sighed, and held a hand out for him. Patrick took it, and Pete tugged him over to the bed. Pete kicked of his shoes, and they got into bed. Patrick was shaking, and Pete wasn't sure if it was from anger or because he was crying. He whispered, “I’m sorry,” but Patrick didn't respond.

Pete held Patrick, stroking his hair. He kissed the back of his neck, and quietly gave Patrick a squeeze. As he held him, Pete knew that everyone was right. Patrick's life was hell, and he'd feel betrayed if Pete didn't tell him the truth. And he was going to.

* * *

Pete was sweating bullets. Patrick hadn’t been in the best mood when Pete had texted him. And he doubted that he was going to be in a better mood when Pete told him what this was about. He had decided to meet Patrick at the cafe. That way, if Patrick didn’t believe him, Pete could break the curse. He’d have no choice but to believe. Pete was praying that Patrick just yelled at him. He wasn’t sure what he’d do otherwise.

Vicky, Gabe, Ryan, and Brendon had been informed of what he was doing. Everyone was enthusiastically on board with the plan, Vicky most of all. “Finally!” She’d said. “I wasn’t sure when you were gonna come to your senses!” They had agreed to help, mostly just to offer moral support for both Pete and Patrick. However, it was a very busy Saturday, and each was busy with their own duties. Pete wanted to join them and help out with the weekend rush, but this was important.

He practically jumped out of his seat when Patrick walked in, and went over and hugged him. Patrick was tense, but relaxed when Pete hugged him. “Hey, everything okay?”

“It will be,” Pete replied, and sat down. Patrick followed suit, but was frowning.

“Okay really, what’s wrong? You’re wound tighter than a spring.” He reached across the table, and took Pete’s hand.

Pete squeezed Patrick’s hand back. “I gotta tell you something.”

“What is it?” Patrick’s expression was cautious.

“I, uh…” Pete blanked. He really hadn’t thought through HOW he was going to tell Patrick. Just coming out and saying ‘I’m magic’ sounded insane. He went with a different approach. “So you know how I hate Harry Potter?”

He could have kicked himself, that was the exact opposite of helpful. Patrick gave him a weird look. “Yeah?”

“There’s kind of a weird reason behind it,” Pete said. He was trying to choose his words, when he saw something out of the corner of his eye.

He looked up, to see Daisy Moon standing by their table. She was glaring at Pete, and she asked, “What’s this?”

“Uh, hey Daisy,” Pete said, giving her a strained smile. He hadn’t even seen her come in.

“Don’t “hey Daisy” me, Pete. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She demanded.

“Who’s this?” Patrick asked, looking at Pete suspiciously.

“My ex,” he said to Patrick, then looked at Daisy. “I’m kind of in the middle of something? Can we talk later?”

“Is that ‘something’ the curse you put on this guy?” Daisy shot back.

Pete’s eyes widened in surprise. She could see the spell that had been placed on Patrick! He tried to think quickly, but the most he managed to say was, “We’re kind of having a moment.”

Patrick scooted his chair back, then stood. He said, “Uh, I think I’ll catch you later.” He was twisting his mouth in a way that Pete knew meant he was uncomfortable.

But Daisy blocked his path, asking, “Are you a Charmer or a Banal?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Patrick asked. Pete had gotten up by now as well

“Daisy, butt out, this is none of your business,” he growled.

“A Banal then,” Daisy said, her eyes narrowing. She glared at Pete, then looked back at Patrick. “He’s cursed you.”

“Cursed me? Look, lady, I don’t know what your problem is but--”

Daisy cut him off. She’d taken something out of her purse, and was hiding it in her hand. “I can’t believe he’d do this again. Hide something that’s so important. Magic’s a part of him, you know. He lives and breathes it. And you need to know.”

She opened her hand to reveal a cleansing crystal. Pete made a grab for it, but Daisy was too quick. She smashed it at Patrick’s feet.

There was a sound like all the oxygen being sucked out of the room, and then a cloud appeared and disappeared from around Patrick’s head. Before he could ask what was going on, Patrick got a look at his real surroundings, and he gasped.

What had looked like an ordinary cafe before was now very obviously filled with mythical creatures. The potions Gabe kept behind the counter were bubbling, the books in the bookstore were moving, and a dryad was descending from the reading loft on a cradle of vines. There were goblins ordering croissants, a hag thumbing through a talking tome, elves chatting over an espresso, kitsune laughing at the periodicals. And Patrick was seeing all of this for the first time.

Patrick’s eyes were wide, and his mouth was open in shock. He looked at Daisy for a moment, then at Pete. Pete could feel his heart pounding, and he said quietly, “I was trying to tell you.” Patrick reached out, touching Pete’s shoulder as though he was unsure of his presence. Pete took his hand and held it, trying to reassure him.

But then something in Patrick’s face changed. He went from shock and surprise to rage. He howled, “You lied to me!” He pulled his hand away, and turned to leave.

Pete tried to stop him, insisting, “Please, I’m sorry! I was trying to tell you the truth!”

Patrick turned, and for a moment, Pete thought that he might be able to talk with him. But instead, Patrick pulled his hand back into a fist, and then punched Pete in the stomach. Pete hit the ground, and looked up just in time to see Patrick running out the door. Vicky shot Pete a worried look, but went after Patrick.

Pete rolled onto his back, groaning. A few people had come over to see what was going on, but no one moved closer. Except Gabe, who had come over the counter and was now staring down at him. Gabe at least didn’t say ‘I told you so,’ but Pete was pretty sure he was thinking it. Gabe helped him up, and said, “All right show’s over folks.” as he helped Pete to his office.

Pete collapsed in the chair behind his desk, and said, “That could have gone better.”

“Yeah. I mean I figured he’d be pissed but I didn’t think he’d fucking punch you.” Gabe sat on the edge of his desk. “So what do you wanna do now?”

“Let him calm down, I guess,” Pete replied, rubbing his stomach. He looked up when he heard someone enter the room, and groaned when he saw it was Daisy. “What the hell do you want?!”

“Were you…” She looked unsure, the righteous indignation gone. “You were telling him the truth?”

“Trying to, before you came up and ruined it,” Pete seethed.

Daisy glared, and said, “I didn’t ruin anything, you should have been honest from the start. Didn’t you learn ANYTHING from when you dumped me?” before she left.

“I dumped her?” Pete asked in disbelief.

Gabe shook his head. “I’m not touching that one, bro.”

“Tell Vicky to come see me when she gets back, and get the fuck out of my office,” Pete said, pulling one of the account books out of the desk. Gabe was smart enough not to comment. Pete tried to focus on his work, but he was so angry. Daisy had screwed this up for him, it was her fault. He couldn’t believe she tried to pin their break up on him.

He was in a foul mood by the time Vicky let herself into his office. Pete looked up and asked, “Well?”

She took a seat and said, “He’s not coming back.”

“Ever?” He asked. He could feel his eyes stinging as tears came.

“Not forever, but he said he needs to think, and he can’t do that if he’s hanging around here.”

He slumped forward and buried his face in his hands. “This is all Daisy’s fault.”

“Bullshit! This is your fault!” Vicky said, and Pete looked up, causing her to frown. “Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, Pete. This is all on you. I told you to tell him the truth, we all did. And now he’s hurt that you were lying to him!”

“I was protecting him!”

“He could have handled it! He’s actually handling it pretty damned well for your information! The only thing that’s fucking him up is that the guy he might have been falling in love with has been lying to him for months. THAT is why he doesn’t wanna come back, he’s pissed at you! Not me, not Gabe, not Brendon or Ryan or Daisy. YOU.”

“Falling in love with?” Pete asked. He was bewildered. Pete knew he had a tendency to fall hard and fast for people, which was why he’d been trying to take things slowly with Patrick. They hadn’t even gotten to third base yet, he’d only just managed to get Patrick’s shirt off the last time they were making out. To hear that Patrick had been falling for him… Somehow, it made everything worse.

Yes, he’d lied to Patrick about magic, and what Prince Charmer’s really was. He could dress it up in all sorts of fancy, refined words. Make it seem like he was protecting Patrick, and doing what was best for him. But Patrick had seen through all the shine, and torn it apart to show what it was. A lie. And Pete couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He might have lost Patrick, it certainly felt like he had. Pete muttered, “I fucked up,” and promptly burst into tears.

Vicky’s expression softened, and she got up and walked around the desk. Pete turned in his chair, and hugged her around the waist. She ran her nails through his hair and said, “It’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t,” Pete sobbed.

“Yes it will,” she assured him. “I did a reading this morning.”

Pete sniffed, and looked up at her. “What did the mists say?”

“That trouble was coming, but love would win in the end.” She leaned over and kissed Pete’s hair. “Go upstairs, take a bath or something. We’ll close the store.”

“I don’t wanna go alone,” Pete admitted. He was low, the lowest he’d been in a long time. And if he went to his apartment by himself, there was no telling what he would do.

"I've got that covered," Vicky told him

He jumped a bit when there was a knock on the door, and Ryan opened it. “You ready?” He asked.

“For what?” Pete replied, confused.

“Vicky said you might need some company, and I was off an hour ago.”

Pete almost laughed. Trust Vicky to set something up like this in advance. She smiled and left the room. Pete stood and said, “Yeah, let’s go.” He and Ryan left. Pete spent the rest of the night curled up in bed crying, with Ryan watching over him.

* * *

"One more time," Pete muttered to himself, calling Patrick's phone. But like with all the others, it went straight to voicemail. Pete didn't bother leaving a message, instead he hung up. He looked out the window, onto the quiet street below. He was angry. It was a beautiful day outside, it almost seemed to mock him.

It had been a week since Daisy had broken the curse. Since Patrick realized the truth. Patrick at least hadn't screamed, or called him a freak. Pete had to hang on to that. But Patrick wouldn't return his calls or texts. Pete was metaphorically climbing the walls. But literally, he was having trouble moving. He hadn't gotten out of bed in days, except to get food and use the bathroom.

Pete sighed, and rolled over away from the window. He knew he should get up, that Gabe, Brendon, and Ryan were probably worried. He didn't know how Vicky felt, probably that he deserved what he got. Pete had to admit she was kind of right, if only he'd told Patrick sooner.

A part of him knew he was being unkind. It wasn’t Vicky’s fault. But the more Pete thought, the more backwards his feelings got. And what little progress he’d made was now completely obliterated by his instinct to lie in bed and sulk. And perhaps part of him still wanted to hang on to his own self image. That he’d been making sacrifices for the greater good of his relationship with Patrick.

He heard the creak of his front door opening, and Pete groaned in annoyance. They'd been taking it in turns to check on Pete. He burrowed under the blankets, not in the mood for visitors. The bedroom door opened, and he felt someone sit on the bed. "Go away," said Pete.

"That's not very nice, I came a long way to see you," he replied, and Pete ripped the covers off of his head and sat up.

Mikey was sitting there, and he said, "Gabe called me."

"Of course he did," Pete replied, sighing and flopping back on the bed. "So did he tell you how much of a fucking failure I am?"

"No, but he told me that you tried to tell your boyfriend the truth and got interrupted by your ex. Well, your other ex." Mikey poked Pete in the knee. "Scoot over."

Pete did, and Mikey climbed into bed with him, pulling him into a hug. "I fucked up," said Pete. "I should have told him sooner, like everyone said."

"You were trying to tell him," Mikey pointed out.

"Yeah but... Sooner. And maybe not at the store y'know? God I'm so fucking stupid!"

"No, hey, stop." Mikey made Pete look at him. "Give me the rundown of what happened."

So Pete did. About the curse, how the working relationship turned into a romantic one, then about Daisy and what she'd done. Mikey listened to all of it, no expression on his face. "So she lifted the curse, and he didn't say anything! He just left! Now he won't return my calls!"

"Why did Daisy do it?" Mikey asked. "I never got the impression that she was this spiteful."

Pete sighed. "She thought I'd put a love spell on him, and she felt that was wrong."

"You didn't, did you?" Mikey asked. Pete would have been offended, but he honestly couldn't blame Mikey for thinking that.

"No. It was a curse, so he wouldn't see the magic. I didn't want him to freak out like Daisy did," he replied.

Mikey sighed, stroking Pete's hair. "You should probably talk to Daisy then."

Pete scoffed. "She just ruined my life! Why the fuck would I talk to her?!"

Mikey frowned at him. "She's not the one who put a curse on Patrick though."

"It was for his own good!"

"Dude, did you just hear what you said?" Mikey asked him, frowning. Pete was ready to argue, but Mikey stopped him. "You're not the person who decides what's best for Patrick. Maybe at first it was to protect him, but you can't say the same about later on. Vicky told me about the dragon."

"He wouldn't have understood," said Pete, and it sounded lame. They both knew it.

"Are you so sure about that?" Mikey gently kissed Pete's forehead. "Get up, shower, eat something that's not delivery. Then call Daisy and talk with her. I think she'll have a better perspective on this than me."

"You've dated me," Pete pointed out.

"Yeah, I did, but that was years ago and I liked the fact you're, well, you. Look... Pete, I love you man. But you are a self centered asshole, and I don't know how to fix it."

"But Patrick--"

"Hasn't dumped you yet,” Mikey pointed out. “And not calling you back doesn't count.”

Pete growled in frustration. “So, what, I’m supposed to go begging to Daisy now? Why should I?”

Mikey stared at him, and sighed. “You have no idea, do you?”

“Of what?”

Mikey sat up, crossing his legs as he said to Pete, “Your little stunt with the Red Fae put her in the hospital, you fucking douche.”

“What?” Pete sat up as well. “That doesn't make any sense, she wasn't hurt!”

“Mental hospital,” Mikey elaborated. “She's got some kind of paranoid delusion disorder. She was doing pretty well controlling it too. She was on meds, seeing a therapist she really liked, had a great handle on it. Sound familiar?”

Pete cringed. He didn't exactly spread it around that he was bipolar, and that was something magic couldn’t fix. Pete was in therapy himself, and also on medication. Something he kept extremely private and hardly ever thought about nowadays. Mikey was there when Pete had an insomnia fit that ended in a suicide attempt, and it hadn't been pretty.

“I didn't know,” muttered Pete, unable to look Mikey in the eye.

“You didn't ask,” said Mikey. He squeezed Pete’s shoulder. “Daisy had a pretty serious break down after that, so she checked into a hospital for a few weeks. She didn't tell anyone what she’d seen, only that it was bad. Then she met another Charmer, who showed her that magic isn't bad or dangerous. And… Well, you know Daisy. She loves learning new things.”

“Fuck… Oh man I fucked up,” said Pete, running his hands through his hair. His stomach was twisting from guilt. He could admit to himself he'd done it to bring things to a head. And secretly he'd been hoping she would dump him, so he wouldn't have to dump her. Though if he'd had any idea of the impact, he wouldn't have done it, not in a million years.

“No use flipping out over it now,” Mikey advised him. “But you need to talk to her. See things from the perspective of a Banal. Or former Banal, really. She might give you some insight so you stop being an asshole.”

“I'm a fucked up person,” Pete replied, and lay down again. Mikey did the same, pulling Pete back into his arms.

“You're still a good person,” Mikey assured him, and kissed his forehead again.

Pete wasn't so sure about that, but then again he never was.

* * *

He was uncertain about the sit down, but Patrick wasn't returning his calls, and Pete knew that Mikey was right. He had to sort things out with Daisy. She wouldn't meet him at the store, and he couldn't blame her. They needed a neutral territory. Berger Park Beach was about as neutral as it got.

Pete was sitting on a boulder, staring out at the water. It was freezing cold, even this time of year, and he was bundled up in a jacket. It was early, just after sunrise, and Pete was by no means a morning person. But he could appreciate that it was still and quiet out, with the exception of the waves on the lake. The water was blue green in the early morning light, and Pete couldn't help thinking how much it reminded him of Patrick’s eyes.

He smelled her before he saw her, a faint scent of apple blossoms on the morning breeze. He’d been so wrapped up in himself, he hadn't heard her soft steps approaching. He turned his head, and there was Daisy, in a soft coral coat with two cups in hand. She offered him one and said, “You still like espresso in the morning, right?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied, taking the cup and sipping from it. Pete was sad to realize that it wasn't poisoned.

“You wanted to talk,” she said softly. Both her hands were wrapped around her cup, probably to keep them warm. He remembered how much she hated to wear gloves, and he always teased her that Chicago was probably not the city for her. Looking at her now, her blond hair shifting in the wind, blue eyes guarded, he saw she was different. A stronger woman than when he'd seduced her. If she weren't, Pete realized, Daisy likely would never have come.

“I’m sorry,” Pete blurted out. “I was a shitty boyfriend.”

Daisy sighed, shoulders slumping. “If that's the only reason you called me out here--”

“It's not, but I figured I should start with that,” Pete admitted to her. “But it’s true, I was a shitty boyfriend. I was getting bored with you because it turned out hey, there's this gorgeous girl I'm into but oh shit she has her own thoughts and feelings that don't revolve around me 24/7. I know I said I was trying to show you the real me, but deep down I think I just wanted to drive you away in the most irrevocable way possible. I just… I didn't know about the other stuff.”

“I don't exactly spread it around that I was committed to a mental hospital,” she said. She got up, and sat next to Pete.

“Yeah, but I should have at least considered that you might have, y’know, demons of your own.”

Daisy sipped from her cup, then licked her lips. “I’m sorry about Patrick. I thought you were tricking him the same way you tricked me. I didn't know you were trying to tell him the truth.”

“Trying and failing, until you broke the curse,” Pete replied.

“Little tip, Pete. Most people don't curse their boyfriends, even if it’s for a good reason.”

“Now you tell me.”

That startled a laugh out of Daisy, and then they sat quietly for a few minutes. Pete wasn't sure how to get out what he wanted to say, and Daisy had always been more patient with that sort of thing than he was. Pete finished his coffee by the time he figured out what he wanted to say.

“I wasn't just a shitty boyfriend, I was a shitty human being. You know the whole time we were dating I don't think I even asked you much about yourself. I did all the talking and you loved me anyway.”

“I did, yeah,” she told him. “You're a flawed human being, we all are. But while we were together I could see potential in you. You were generous with your friends, kind to strangers, even if you weren't always kind to me. You can be a major douchebag, but you're still a good person. It's why I put up with your bullshit for as long as I did.”

“Way to soften the blow.”

“Soft isn't what you need right now, you need hard truths. I think that's why you called me out here.”

Pete nodded. “I am here to hear your truth.”

“Okay, well, for starters, you're a dick.” Daisy put her cup down, twisting it into the sand so it wouldn't blow away. “You have this grand romantic way of looking at people, but what you're really doing is putting them on a pedestal. I couldn't live up to your initial perceptions of me, and I bet Patrick couldn't either. You've got insanely high and incredibly selfish expectations. Like, do you remember what you'd do after we fucked and I wanted to go home?”

“I'd beg you to stay with me, and sometimes I’d cry when you didn't,” Pete replied. It wasn't difficult to remember, because he'd done it every single time.

“No, you'd order me to stay with you and whine and cry when I would tell you no,” Daisy said to him. “Even after I explained why I couldn't stay.”

“I needed you.”

“And I needed breathing room. It's all a matter of perception. I needed to maintain my independence and you wanted control so you were smothering me with affection. Then when I didn't respond how you wanted me to you would lash out.”

Pete winced at that, but he knew it was true. “Why didn't you just tell me?”

“I did, a lot,” she replied. She didn't look angry, but resigned. “But I wasn't telling you what you wanted to hear so you ignored it.”

“Do I do that a lot?”

“Yeah, you do. It's one of your more annoying traits.”

Pete thought back, to all the interactions he'd had with Patrick. How much affection he’d heaped on him. And he really thought about Patrick’s responses, especially the night they fought at Patrick’s house. He said to Daisy, “I asked Patrick to move in with me, he said he wouldn't because he didn't think my motives were selfless.”

“You asked me to move in with you after two months of dating,” Daisy said, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“That was different, I wanted you close all the time, Patrick… His home situation isn't great.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow. “Was that the only reason you were asking him to move in? Tell the truth.”

He didn't reply at first, but he knew Patrick had been right. It wasn't just that Pete wanted to save him from a shitty situation, he wanted Patrick all to himself. And truthfully, Pete wanted Patrick to think of him as a savior. He’d tried to dress it up in good intentions, and Patrick had seen right through it. “I guess it wasn't.”

Daisy nodded. She picked up her cup and stood. “Take a good look at yourself Pete, really think about what you've done, and what you wanna do. If at the end of the day you do still love Patrick, then give him the time he needs.”

“But what if he never talks to me again?” Pete asked, standing up as well.

“Then at least allow him the dignity to make that choice. Don't force your presence on him, it’ll only drive him farther away.” Then she surprised Pete by pulling him into a hug. She whispered in his ear, “You do shitty things, but you're good deep down. Remember that, and work to bring that goodness out.”

She let go and walked away, Pete watching her go. He then sat down on the boulder again, staring out at the water. Minutes later, he was lost in thought again, and it was as though Daisy had never been there.

* * *

Pete was in the reading loft, not particularly feeling like doing anything. A few pixies had been bothering him earlier, and he’d shooed them away as best he could. He seemed to be putting out a lot of bad energy, so nearly everyone was avoiding him. He didn’t blame them.

The talk with Daisy had been useless in his opinion. And though he’d promised to leave Patrick alone, that didn’t make it easier for him. He itched to take out his phone and send text after text, but he’d left his phone downstairs specifically to avoid the temptation. Which meant he was lying on a couch, away from everyone, marinating in his own ennui.

Vicky wasn’t mad at him anymore, but she, Gabe, and Ryan were through with coddling him. He understood why; he’d been an asshole. Brendon still made some attempts, but they were often short lived. It didn’t help that Pete snapped at him every time he tried. Pete was telling himself it was the right thing to do, for Patrick and for himself. It didn’t assuage Pete’s bleak outlook.

He heard someone coming up the stairs, and Pete rolled on his side so his back was facing whoever it was. He hoped it wasn’t a customer, or worse, a fan. A few had managed to see through his perception spell and it put him in a bad mood when they did. He’d gotten the idea from Patrick, watching episodes of Doctor Who with him. A spell so that Pete wasn’t noticed, but not invisible. Pete thought he was brilliant when he’d come up with it. But he’d failed to take into account the fervor of fans.

Whoever it was, they were coming closer. He braced himself to either be sat on, or asked for an autograph. But that wasn’t what happened. Instead, a familiar voice said, “Pete?”

He looked over his shoulder, and rolled off the couch he was so surprised. It was Patrick! Pete picked himself up off the floor, not even trying to play it cool. He went to Patrick, asking, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk,” Patrick replied, but he looked pretty apprehensive.

“Yeah! Uh, yeah, c’mon sit down,” said Pete, and gestured to the sofa. Patrick sat on one side, and Pete sat on the other. “So, what do you wanna talk about?”

“Magic,” Patrick said, and Pete deflated at that.

“Oh.”

“So, look... I started spending time with Andy and Joe,” Patrick told him. “And they’ve been telling me about magic and this whole world you guys have got going on.”

Pete stared for a moment, then said, “They were hanging out with you and didn’t tell me?”

Patrick looked embarrassed. “I might have threatened them so they wouldn’t.”

“Oh. Okay, I guess,” said Pete.

“Anyway, they said if I wanted to learn, I should talk to Supreme Andrews.”

Pete remembered the silver haired witch from Patrick’s first night singing at the shop. He hadn’t forgotten the flower crown that she’d given Patrick, and he asked, “Was she expecting you?”

Patrick blinked. “Uh, yeah… Actually, she was.”

“I knew it,” Pete mumbled.

“Anyway,” said Patrick, rolling his eyes. “She taught me the basics. But she says I can’t continue my education with her unless I wanna be a hedge witch. So here I am.”

“So… You’re only here for books, not to see me?” Pete asked.

“Pete,” Patrick said softly, but Pete stood up. He was ready to just cast a full invisibility spell on himself, when Patrick said, “I’m here for both.”

Pete spun around. “Really? You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“Pete, you lied to me, so I am still mad at you,” Patrick pointed out. “And this wasn’t easy on me either. I had to really think about if I could trust you after you kept something like this from me.”

“I know,” Pete said. “I’m really sorry.”

“I know you are. Andy and Joe were keeping me updated. And Travie was begging me to come back, he said at the last class you spent the entire time hiding up here,” he said. Patrick was rubbing the back of his neck, as though he were nervous. “I just… I need you to promise me, you won’t keep something like this from me again.”

“I won’t, I swear! I’ll swear it on the moon dragons, I’ll swear it on the sea spirits! Hell I’ll swear it on alien gods that may or may not exist!” Pete told him fervently. He took both of Patrick’s hands in his. “I promise, Patrick. I will never lie to you like that again.”

Patrick squeezed Pete’s hands, and he said, “All right then.” He kissed Pete’s cheek. “Come on, we need to find a book.”

“Which one?” Pete asked, grinning. Patrick was back! It didn’t matter to Pete that Patrick was still angry, so long as he was back.

“Uh… A Guide to Practical Song Magic, the one with sheet music.”

Pete stared for a minute, then laughed. “I know that one.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, it has a mind of its own.”

Patrick groaned, but followed Pete down the stairs. “Am I going to have to tame the book or something?”

“Nah, but if it tries to talk you into summoning sprites? Don’t do it. More trouble than it’s worth.”

Patrick laughed, and Pete was skipping down the stairs. Patrick was back!

* * *

Pete was staring at Patrick, when he was supposed to be writing. It was Sunday, and the store was closed. Pete had promised to have a book ready for editing by the end of the year, but his progress had slowed. He still couldn’t believe Patrick was there, in his apartment, reading a book on magic. His face was scrunched in a way that Pete knew meant he was concentrating, and Patrick said, “Stop staring at me.”

“I kinda wanna stare forever?” Pete said. He moved closer, but still gave Patrick some distance.

“It’s creeping me out,” Patrick told him.

“I just… Can we talk?”

Patrick closed the book. He stroked the binding, and the book looked as though it sighed. He looked up at Pete, pushing his glasses up his nose. “What about?”

“Well like… What do you wanna know about me? Anything at all I promise I’ll answer truthfully.”

Patrick thought about it, then nodded. “Why did you keep magic a secret from me?”

Pete sighed, rubbing at his face.  “Truthfully?”

“Yeah.”

“Because I wanted to keep it to myself,” Pete admitted. “The Charmer community is kinda small, and as much as I loved you? I wasn’t ready to bring you into it. I thought something might go wrong, but… Well you know the rest.” He had told Patrick about his conversations with Mikey and Daisy.

“All right, and now?”

“Now, I’m kind of excited to see what you’ll do. You’re fucking brilliant at everything you do, you’re gonna be a great Charmer.”

Patrick squirmed at that, but he said, “Okay. So, uh, what do you wanna know about me?”

“So many things,” Pete said. “I mean, like… Okay I know I’m not the best boyfriend but how can I possibly NOT be the worst you’ve had?”

Patrick shrugged, saying, “You’re not.”

“Uh, elaborate?” Pete scooted next to him and squeezed Patrick’s hand. “Please? I wanna understand you better.”

Patrick squeezed his hand back, and sighed. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Where have we got to go?”

He snorted. “There was someone I was close to, my freshman year of college. His name was Logan, and I was really in love with him. So much so that by sophomore year I’d moved in with him. Sure he wasn’t as into music as me, but we had a lot of other things in common.” Patrick stopped, his voice trembling, and Pete squeezed his hand again.

“It’s okay,” said Pete.

“So during Christmas break, he asked me to marry him, and I said yes. We had this engagement party during Spring Break, and that’s when his ex came back into the picture.” Patrick laughed bitterly, his eyes watering. “Aiden. Logan swore they were just friends. I was stupid enough to believe it.”

He didn’t seem to want to continue, but he took a deep breath and pressed on. “We were going to get married that summer, a small ceremony in the park with Aiden officiating. But the day came and I was there, in my best suit… And I was the only one who showed up. None of our friends… No, I should say they were his friends, they never came. And when it got to be past noon I called Logan to find out what was going on. He told me the wedding was off and that he’d texted me to let me know, and why did I never check my text messages.”

Pete stared, horrified, but he didn’t want to interrupt. He clasped both of Patrick’s hands with his own. Patrick said, his voice cracking,”He said that he’d never really gotten over Aiden. So I was left at the altar, with no friends to turn to, and what’s worse is the lease was in his name so he kicked me out.”

Pete blanched at that, and he asked, “Did he know about your parents?”

“Oh yeah, and that was back when they used to hit me, too,” he replied, shaking his head. “They stopped doing that after I moved back in though. I started hitting back.”

“What about...I mean, surely some of your friends…” Pete didn’t know how to phrase it.

“They weren’t my friends, Pete. After Logan dumped me they stopped talking to me. I mean, I’d always felt like the odd man out anyway. Like I wasn’t part of the group, just there by association. That was crystal clear when I got kicked out. I didn’t have anywhere to go but to my parents.”

Suddenly, Patrick’s insistence on getting out on his own made a hell of a lot more sense. “Where’s Logan now?”

“Him and Aiden left town, they’re living in California or something.” Patrick bit his lip, squeezing his eyes closed. Pete knew he was trying not to cry. “I mean, he wasn’t the only one. I’ve had more than one boyfriend dump me. All of them, actually, but that hurt the worst.”

Pete pulled Patrick into a hug, whispering, “It’s okay, you’re free now. And fuck that guy, if he couldn’t see what he had in front of him.”

Patrick sniffed, but didn’t say anything. Pete stroked his hair, getting as close as he could to Patrick. He even wrapped a leg over Patrick’s thigh, which made him laugh.

He wiped his tears away, saying, “Sorry just… Being stupid, I guess.”

“You are not,” said Pete. “You’re awesome, Logan’s stupid and if he were still around I’d curse him within an inch of his life.”

“Heh, that’s sweet.” Patrick looked up at him, and Pete smiled softly.

They stared at each other, Patrick’s cheeks red from crying and embarrassment, tears still clinging to his eyelashes. Pete reached up, and gently brushed them away with his thumb. He ran his thumb over Patrick’s lips. He couldn’t help staring at them, lush and pink as they were. When he managed to drag his gaze back to Patrick’s eyes, he noticed he was staring at Pete’s lips.

Pete kissed Patrick before he finished thinking about it. Patrick stilled, and for a moment Pete thought he would push him away. But instead, Patrick’s fingers dug into Pete’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

It was awkward, with how they’d been tangled up in each other. They broke away for a moment so that Pete could climb into Patrick’s lap, and resumed kissing in a frenzy. Patrick was breathing hard through his nose, while Pete would pull his mouth away to gasp, before kissing him again. Patrick sighed, throwing himself into it.

Pete ground down against him, and Patrick moaned, thrusting back. Pete could feel how hard he was, and he growled, “God, you’re perfect.”

The look on Patrick’s face was heartbreaking. His expression was broken disbelief, but he could also see a tiny glimmer of hope there. “I am?”

“Yeah,” he said, and Pete kissed his lips softly.

“I… I can’t, right now,” Patrick replied, blushing.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to.” Pete kissed him, grinned, and climbed off his lap. “We’re gonna do this right. Our first time’s gonna be epic.”

“Oh God you’re already planning something aren’t you?” Patrick groaned.

“Totally. Wine and roses and silk sheets. Nothing but the best for my Pattycakes.”

“And you’ve officially killed the mood.” Patrick picked up the book, gave it a little pinch, and it fell back open to where he’d left off.

Pete laughed at that, but he could see the little smile on Patrick’s face. He kissed his cheek, and let Patrick get back to his studies. Pete was suddenly feeling inspired, and went to write.

* * *

Summer was coming on, and while Pete was glad for the end of the spring storms, he wasn't looking forward to the heat. It could be pretty damned miserable. Things were at least getting better in regards to his relationship with Patrick So much so that he started coming to Pete's classes. Though this evening, he was late, and it was making Pete antsy.

“Hey!” Pete jumped and turned around, to see Brendon grinning at him. “Bit on edge aren’t you?”

“Fuck off Brendon.”

Brendon pouted and leaned closer to Pete, saying, “Why don’t you like me anymore?” There was a teasing tone to his voice, and Pete rolled his eyes.

“You know I love you, man. Why the fuck are you sneaking up on me?”

Brendon laughed, and did a sweep of his arm, saying, “In case you didn’t notice, your pupils have arrived.”

Pete looked around, and saw that everyone had gathered. Bebe was talking with Laura Jane, but shooting glances his way. He sighed, and headed towards the front of the room. But he stopped when the door opened, and Patrick walked in. He looked nervous, and Pete went to his side immediately.

“Hey Trick,” Pete said, taking Patrick’s hand. “What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you. Also the thought of you teaching anyone anything sounds kind of impossible so I had to see it for myself.” Patrick grinned at him.

Pete laughed, and kissed Patrick’s cheek. “Yeah well I’m an awesome teacher, so shows what you know.”

“We’ll see,” Patrick replied, and went to go sit with Joe and Andy.

Pete climbed up onto the stage and said, “All right! So I know everyone’s been curious about the homework I gave you last time.”

“What was that again?” Joe asked, and Pete frowned.

“I said research superpowers,” Pete replied. “Didn’t you listen to me?”

“To be fair? That sounds like a joke assignment.” Brendon snorted while Andy rolled his eyes at Joe.

“Well, I was serious. Everyone should have a list of three power they want to recreate. So what we’re doing today is writing the poems to make it possible, however there is a catch.”

“There’s always a fucking catch,” Laura Jane grumbled, and Pete grinned at her.

“Yes there is. The catch is today I’m limiting what kind of poetry to use, and you can’t use certain words.” He waved his hand, and a poster appeared from nowhere, hovering in the air in front of the class. Patrick was staring at it in awe, and Pete winked at him.

“No haikus?” Joe asked, disappointed.

“Absolutely no fucking haikus, you’ve been using those a lot lately and you need to branch out,” said Pete. “I’d prefer everyone do terza rima, but pastoral and elegy are acceptable too.”

“We can’t use the word power at all?” Halsey was frowning now.

“No, because that’d be too easy. Remember, the point is to use metaphors, similes, whatever summons the magic without it being super obvious. It’s the intention behind the words that matter, and if your intention is strong then you can use as much flowery language as you want.”

Patrick raised his hand, a bit confused. “Why?” Everyone turned to look at him, and he blushed. “Just curious.”

Pete smiled at his boyfriend. “In the old days, the point of poetry magic was to work a spell or incantation without your enemy realizing you’re doing so. If you point at someone and go “DRACARYS!” then they’re gonna know you’re throwing dragon fire at them and respond accordingly.”

“From Game of Thrones?” Patrick asked.

“It’s a real spell,” said Andy.

“How do you even know that? You told me you don’t watch Game of Thrones,” Traive added.

“I don't, but Pete does and hes' done that a couple times.” That got several people laughing, including Bebe and Lolo. Pete cheerfully flipped them off, then continued.

“Anyway, it was created in order to be sneakier in battle. Unfortunately it proved useless as it takes time to write then recite a poem. So sometimes just saying ‘dracarys” is better.”

Hayley raised her hand. “Can we recycle parts of poems from old spells?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t, but if you have something you think will work then go for it.” Pete jumped down from the stage. “You have two hours to write your spells. Get to work.”

There was a rustling as everyone pulled out notebooks and pencils, and gathered together at different tables. Brendon was with Hayley and Andy, while Joe and Halsey talked with Patrick. Travie and Laura Jane were hunched together, whispering as they wrote.

“I gotta say, this is cruel,” Bebe muttered, and Pete laughed.

“They’re awesome, they’ll get it.”

He was more interested in what Patrick was doing. He was looking at Joe’s notebook, crossing things out. He pointed at one of the sentences, and Joe nodded and took the notebook back. Then Halsey presented hers. Again, Patrick crossed out or rewrote portions, then gave the notebook back.

Pete and Bebe exchanged glances, and went over to the table. “What are you guys doing?”

“Just helping out,” Patrick replied.

“They’re supposed to be doing this on their own.” Bebe said, crossing her arms over her stomach.

“We are,” Joe said. “Patrick’s just helping us with word order so we don’t trip over our tongues.”

Pete raised an eyebrow. “I think that might be cheating.”

“Oh please,” Halsey said. “Patrick’s been helping out for weeks.”

Patrick was blushing now, and it was the kind that creeped up his neck and into his face. Pete twisted his lips, and asked, “Patrick, can I talk to you?”

Patrick got up, and followed Pete to the other end of the cafe. “Look, before you get mad, I don’t write anything for anyone. Like Joe said I just help with word arrangements. I can’t write lyrics let alone actual poems.”

“You can’t write lyrics?” Pete said, raising an eyebrow. “Well THAT sounds like bullshit.”

“It’s not. I’ve never been a good writer,” said Patrick, looking down at his shoes. His feet shuffled a little, and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

Pete didn’t like that. He very gently grasped Patrick’s shoulders and said, “Hey.” Patrick looked up at him. “You’re amazing, okay? I’ve seen you do beautiful things with words. Maybe you can’t write lyrics yet, but you will. And they’re gonna be awesome.”

“Thanks, Pete,” he replied, and pulled Pete into a hug.

Pete smiled and squeezed back. “So how long have you been helping my students cheat?”

“They’re not cheating,” Patrick said huffily, making Pete laugh.

“Okay, how long have you been doing this?”

“Remember the class two weeks after I left? When you told them to work on something at home?”

Pete remembered it very well. He’d been in a terrible mood, and Bebe and Lolo had told Pete they had an emergency and couldn’t come. He’d thought it was because they didn’t want to be around him, that no one did. So he’d told everyone to go home, and come back the next week with spells that made them happy. The next week, he’d been amazed with what his students had come up with. It had assuaged the pain some, and Pete had at least attempted to properly teach classes after that.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I came over to Joe’s apartment that night, and Andy and Travie were there. They’d been having trouble with the structures of their poems, so I took a look at them and offered some tips to make them flow better. Travie said I have a knack for it.”

“Of course you do.” Pete grinned at him. “You’re good at everything.”

“No I’m not, I can’t write, remember?”

“You will.”

Pete spent the rest of the class circling, seeing how people were doing and if there was anything they were stuck on. But they weren’t. As Pete predicted, they were brilliant. With or without Patrick’s help, everyone cast their superpower spells with ease. The most surprising of which was Laura Jane.

Pete had never much interacted with her, as he found her slightly intimidating. But as fierce as she seemed, she was incredibly gentle and loving, if her friendships with Halsey and Andy were anything to go by. When it was her turn to demonstrate, she had a smirk on her face that Pete hadn’t seen before.

“I came up with this spell because of transphobic assholes,” she said simply, and began speaking the words. There was a good rhythm to them, and it was almost like a song. When the spell was completed, Pete’s jaw dropped at the results.

Laura Jane’s skin, hair, clothes, and even her shoes, had turned to metal. It was silver with a slightly green hue, and she smiled as everyone jumped out of their seats and applauded. Travie was hollering loudly, and Pete could hear Brendon cheering. Everyone gathered around her, inspecting what she’d done.

“This is trippy,” Patrick said. “Like, you kinda look like the T-2000.”

“I’m solid though,” she said. She held her arm out. “Feel.”

Everyone took turns touching her. There was no give to the metal, indeed she was like a living metal statue. Pete was grinning at her, and he said, “You’re fucking amazing.”

“Do you have super strength to go with the metal?” Joe asked and Laura Jane shook her head.

“Don’t need it. I picked an alloy, one of the strongest metals on Earth. It’s lighter than titanium but able to withstand a hell of a lot more damage.”

“So this is for defense, not offense,” Bebe stated, and Laura Jane nodded.

Hayley smiled at that, and held her arms out. Laura Jane returned the smile, and the hug. Pete moved in at the same time as everyone else. It was definitely time for a group hug. It lasted a good while, and Joe’s mumbled, “Guys? I gotta pee,” made everyone crack up.

They moved apart, and it was Andy’s turn to demonstrate. But Pete noticed that Patrick was whispering quietly with Laura Jane. They seemed to be intently conversing about something, though what Pete had no idea. It wasn’t until after the night was over and they were in Pete’s apartment he could even ask.

“What was all that with LJ earlier?”

Patrick looked up from where he was sitting on the couch, notebook forgotten for the moment. He’d agreed to stay the night, on the condition of “no funny stuff”. He wore a gray shirt and striped pajama bottoms, both soft and thin with age. Pete flopped down on the couch beside him, and snuggled into Patrick’s side. Patrick sighed, and put an arm around him.

“What was what with Laura Jane?” Patrick asked.

“The like… Whispering,” Pete said, sliding an arm over Patrick’s stomach.

“Oh!” He smiled, and ruffled Pete’s hair. “I noticed her poem was pretty close to being a song. So we ended up talking about magic blending.”

Pete raised an eyebrow. “Dude.”

“I know, I know. Everyone says it’s pretty impossible unless you’ve got a good relationship with whoever you’re trying to blend with. But… I think we’ve got a good relationship. And we kind of almost did it before.”

Pete sat up more, fixing Patrick with a look. “You’re awesome enough you could probably pull it off. But Trick, it’s fucking dangerous. You could end up really hurting yourself, or even destroying the source of your magic.” Pete could hear he was getting shrill; but the thought of Patrick losing his voice was something that was, at the very least, distressing.

“I know, I know. Believe me, Supreme Andrews made that really clear when we first started discussing magic and I asked why people didn’t use more than one kind.” He gently pulled Pete closer, hugging him. “But still, it’s worth trying, isn’t it? I used your words before, one that you were using to write a spell. And I applied music to them and sang those words. If I’d been practicing magic back then it would have worked.”

“I dunno,” Pete mumbled. He burrowed his nose into Patrick’s neck, inhaling his scent. It was comforting to him.

“Can we try though? I think… I think we could really do this.” He gingerly took hold of Pete’s shoulders, making Pete look at him.

And he could see this meant something to Patrick. He looked hopeful, but afraid. Like he expected Pete to reject him… That’s when it clicked. Patrick wanted to trust Pete, and this was his way of extending that trust again. Asking to do this crazy experiment.

Pete kissed him, and said, “We can try.”

* * *

Patrick ended up spending the weekend at Pete’s apartment. They’d talked about the blending, and tried to come up with a method that would work for them. Pete and Patrick had been at it for hours, and it was getting late. But both felt that they were very close to finding the answer to combining magics. Pete tapped out a rhythm on his knee, his bare foot echoing the beat against the hardwood floor.  He said, “I think the beat is off.”

“Everything is off,” Patrick said, his tone crabby. He was sitting on the floor, sheet music and crumpled notebook paper surrounding him. He was tapping a pencil against the side of his head as he read over something he’d written. Pete could tell that Patrick was getting irritated. Pete had ordered in Thai food, and after several hours they were no closer to coming up with a solution.  

Pete was lounging on the couch, one arm cradling his head while the other hung off the side. He was watching Patrick, memorizing every little detail that he could. It had been weeks since Patrick had returned. And while Patrick had repeatedly assured Pete he wasn’t going anywhere, Pete couldn’t help but stare at him.

“Stop it,” Patrick said without looking up.

“Stop what?” Pete asked, smirking.

“You know what. Stop it,” said Patrick. He pushed his glasses up his nose, and picked up a sheet of music. He could see Patrick’s toes curling in his socks. Pete had insisted on implementing a “no shoes in the apartment” rule since Ryan’s first turn babysitting Pete. His boots had left scuff marks on the floor, and Pete had nearly cursed him into oblivion.

Pete got up, then settled himself on the floor behind Patrick. He hooked his chin over Patrick’s shoulder and asked, “So what do you think?”

“I think we’re never gonna make this work with just two people,” Patrick told him, sighing. “Your power’s in your words, mine is in my voice. But we need music for this too, Pete. Guitars, drums, bass. We’d need a whole band to pull this off.”

“So we can’t just do your voice and my words?” Pete asked. He wrapped his arms around Patrick’s torso, kissing his neck.

“We can, but it won’t be as powerful as we’re looking to do.” Patrick sighed, leaning against Pete. “I think we should reconsider.”

“I think that sounds like quitter talk,” Pete replied.

Patrick snorted, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest. He did sound frustrated, and Pete had an idea of how to help. Pete smiled, and kissed Patrick’s jaw. He then nibbled on Patrick’s earlobe, Pete’s hands gently caressing his stomach.

“It doesn’t have to be powerful the first time,” Pete reminded him. “It just has to work.”

Patrick sighed and muttered, “You can keep doing that.”

Pete sucked on his earlobe, then asked, “Oh yeah? And what else can I do?” His fingers drew up the hem of Patrick’s shirt, and Pete heard him gasp.

“Uh… That, definitely, and the other thing you were just doing,” Patrick said. His breath was catching in his throat.

Pete pulled away, getting to his feet. He walked around Patrick, and offered him a hand. “What’s say we take this to the bedroom?”

He wasn’t sure Patrick would take him up on it, Patrick had been shy about going further. After what he and Pete had discussed with Patrick’s past, it wasn’t a surprise. But Patrick’s cheeks were flushed, and he was biting his lip, hard. He took Pete’s hand, and he helped Patrick to stand. He didn’t reply with words, instead Patrick held on to Pete, and led the way to the bedroom.

However, once there, he seemed to lose confidence. Pete smiled at that and pulled Patrick into a kiss. As they explored each other’s mouths, Pete tugged at Patrick’s shirt, his cool fingers slipping under the fabric to graze along warm skin. Patrick moaned into the kiss, but then ripped his mouth away. “Wait, wait a minute!” He said, panting.

“What’s wrong?” Pete asked. Normally, he would have been annoyed. But Pete was turning over a new leaf, or trying to.

“You said you had some plans for our first time,” Patrick said. “Is this…”

Pete wasn’t sure what he meant. But then Pete remembered what he’d said, and he laughed. “I wasn’t serious about the satin sheets and shit. But if you want I can make the roses thing happen.”

“Oh yeah? How?” Patrick was looking at him suspiciously, and Pete rolled his eyes.

He breathed out slowly, centering himself. Pete could feel the magic welling up inside, and he said, “Petals like velvet, crimson deep as any love, fire stokes passion.” Gently, red rose petals fell around them.

Patrick stared in awe, and said quietly, “That was one hell of a haiku.”

“I’ve been practicing,” Pete said, and Patrick laughed. There was a nervous thread through it, and Pete took his hands again.

“It’s okay, really. If you’re not ready--”

“Shut up Pete,” Patrick replied, and kissed him again. Pete grinned at Patrick, then took off his shirt. Patrick’s fingers ran over his abs, and he muttered, “Holy shit. You’re starting to look more… Muscle-y.”

“I’ve been working out,” said Pete. “It’s helped a lot with stuff.”

Patrick’s face fell. “Oh, I… I’m sorry.”

“No, Patrick, that wasn’t a guilt trip thing,” promised Pete. “I started exercising after you came back. To help me deal with some of my manic episodes, you know?”

“Does it work?”

“Yeah! Plus I’ll get sick abs out of it! And check this out!” He turned around, and flexed his arms and back. He could feel tentative touches from Patrick’s fingers, light and gentle.

“Wow.” Patrick said, his voice soft. Pete shivered when Patrick’s lips pressed to his back, right between his shoulder blades. Pete’s head rolled back as Patrick kissed a trail downwards. Petals brushed his face, and Pete gasped when he felt Patrick nip at the base of his spine.

“Fuck,” Pete whispered, licking his lips. He turned around, pulling Patrick to his feet. Pete kissed him, hard, pressing Patrick against the wall. Patrick kissed back, and Pete grabbed the collar of Patrick’s shirt, yanking it. “Off,” he said, when he came up for air.

“Yeah,” Patrick agreed. He removed his shirt quickly, but then seemed to be overcome by embarrassment. Patrick tried to cover himself with his arms, and Pete frowned.

“Patrick?” He asked.

“I… Haven’t exactly been working out.” He was definitely embarrassed.

“Hey,” Pete said, kissing Patrick’s cheek. “You’re hot no matter what, okay?”

Patrick snorted. “Yeah, sure I am.”

“You are,” he replied, kissing Patrick’s other cheek. “You’re fucking hot.” He nibbled on his neck. “Wanted to fuck you since I first met you.” A bite to the collar bone. “The minute you walked into the cafe.” Pete nipped his pec for emphasis, then drew Patrick’s nipple into his mouth.

“Oh shit,” Patrick said with a gasp. Pete heard his head thud against the wall, and smirked to himself. He tweaked Patrick’s other nipple, and moved down his body. Patrick wasn’t hiding himself anymore, his arms had fallen away. Instead, he was making gorgeous sounds while Pete bit and licked a path towards Patrick’s jeans.

He stopped just shy of the waist, looking up at Patrick as he kneeled on the floor. “You still wanna go through with this?” Pete wasn’t sure why he kept asking. Patrick seemed into it, and when Patrick wanted something, he rarely changed his mind about it. It might have been due to a small, nagging feeling in the back of his head.

The one that said that given the chance, Patrick would change his mind, and leave Pete for good.

But Patrick didn’t look in shape to be going anywhere. He was breathing hard, his hat askew from taking his shirt off (and how had he managed that without removing his hat? Pete would have to ask next time). He was blushing, a lovely pink glow on his lips and chest. And his lips were red and moist from kissing.

“Please, Pete,” he begged. Pete couldn’t ignore that.

He opened Patrick’s jeans, saying, “Gonna suck you and fuck you.”

“Don’t put it like that,” replied Patrick, making a face.

“Would you prefer for me to call it making love?” Pete asked, raising an eyebrow.

Patrick bit his lip, then said, “Well, uh…”

Pete chuckled as he pulled Patrick’s jeans down around his knees, saying, “Okay. I’m gonna suck you, then make love to you.”

He visibly relaxed, and said quietly, “Thank you.”

Pete grinned up at him, but didn’t reply. Instead, he tugged at Patrick’s underwear. Patrick was hard, his cock red. Pete gingerly took hold of the base, and gave the head an experimental lick. Salty, but no trace of precome, at least not yet. Patrick shivered, then shouted when Pete took him into his mouth.

“Pete!” Patrick’s fingers gripped his hair, tugging at it. Pete relished the feeling, the small sparks of pain it caused. He bobbed his head, keeping the movement shallow to tease Patrick. In response, Patrick thrust his hips forward. It made Pete balk, but Patrick muttered an apology and stroked his hair.

Pete smirked, hands going to Patrick’s hips. He held him in place against the wall, tongue swirling around Patrick’s cock. Patrick’s fingers were cradling Pete’s head, surprisingly gently. Pete thought Patrick would try to fuck his mouth, but instead it was as though Patrick needed something to hang on to. When Pete felt Patrick’s legs shake, he knew that was the case.

“You okay?” Pete asked when he pulled his mouth away.

“I need to fucking--Please,” Patrick said.

Pete stood and helped him over to the bed. Once he got Patrick to lie down, he pulled off his jeans entirely. It left Patrick with his underwear around his knees, socks on his feet, and still wearing his hat. “Are you going to have a fit if I take your hat off?”

“Fuck you,” Patrick growled, taking the hat off and attempting to hit Pete with it.

Pete laughed and ducked out of the way, then removed the rest of Patrick’s clothes. Patrick wasn’t hiding himself anymore. His face was flushed, his soft thighs pale, and he was everything Pete could have wanted. Pete practically ripped his own jeans off, and stumbled on his way to the bed. He laughed at himself as he scrambled up, saying, “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?” Patrick asked. Pete straddled his hips, and Patrick’s hand went straight to Pete’s cock. Patrick’s calloused fingers lightly stroked his shaft, and he asked Pete, “How do you want me?”

“Uh… Oh fuck,” Pete muttered. It was so hard to concentrate. When he’d been sucking Patrick, it had been easier. But now that Patrick was touching him, Pete couldn’t gather his thoughts. Pete closed his eyes and gulped, trying to get a grip. But the feel of Patrick slowly jacking him was hard to think past, and Pete moaned.

“Pete?” He opened his eyes to see Patrick staring up at him.

“Sorry baby,” he took hold of Patrick’s wrist. “Hang on for a minute huh? I can’t figure this out when you’re touching me like that.” That made Patrick smile, and Pete leaned over him, wanting to kiss that smile off his face. He sucked on Patrick’s lower lip, and Pete heard a whimper come from him.

“Fuck, Pete,” Patrick whispered.

“Let me get the lube,” he said. Pete crawled off of Patrick, digging around in the bedside drawer. He found a condom, but not the lube. He frowned, and checked the other nightstand. He didn’t find it in the drawer, and Pete almost howled in frustration. Until he spotted a familiar hit of blue peaking out from underneath the nightstande.

He pulled the lube out from under it, and then straightened again. “All right, ready to do this?”

Patrick nodded. “Fuck, yes!” Pete grinned, and opened the condom, tossing the wrapper aside.

He poured some of the lube onto his fingers, asking, “You wanna watch me?”

“Watch you do what?”

“Get myself ready for you,” said Pete. Though he was expecting it, the coolness of the lube made him shiver. He bit his lip, as he teased his hole. Patrick stared at him, flushed and ready. He put the condom on, his hands fumbling with the foil wrapper. “You okay?”

“I didn’t think…” Patrick trailed off, and Pete understood. He thrust the first finger in with a gasp.

“You thought I’d want to fuck you,” he said. Pete moaned as he opened himself, panting, “I wanna do that too… But I want this first. I want you inside me.”

Patrick sat up, holding himself up with an elbow. He kissed Pete, and muttered, “I love you.”

Pete could almost die happy, that Patrick would say that right then.

He was ready now, or too eager to open himself more. It didn’t matter, they were both ready. Pete shifted into position, taking hold of Patrick’s cock. He exhaled, and slowly sank downwards. It was a lot to take in, not just the size, but everything that had been building to this moment. The broken trust, and their relationship mending back together. Pete was nearly overwhelmed when Patrick was inside him.

They were still, staring at eachother and panting. It was a little awkward, it seemed neither knew what to do next. Patrick though, took charge. “Start slow,” he said, hands going to Pete’s hips. Pete rocked experimentally, Patrick guiding him. Pete gave a shuddering sigh, and went at the pace Patrick set.

Pete stared down into Patrick’s eyes, as though if he looked away, the moment might end. He could feel something building, and realized the rose petals that had been falling around them had changed. They turned from roses to cherry blossoms, and from cherry blossoms to leaves. They disappeared as soon as they touched a hard surface, but the sensation was amazing.

Patrick gasped when Pete increased his pace, pushing himself down harder. Patrick’s hips bucked up to meet him, and Pete groaned. He was getting close, and he began stroking himself, muttering, “Patrick,” over and over.

Patrick didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached for Pete’s other hand. He squeezed it tightly, not letting go as he thrust up. The leaves had dried now, as though it were autumn, and then they changed to snow. As the delicate flakes danced around them, Pete screamed, his orgasm taking him over. Patrick never let go of his hand, even as he came.

Pete collapsed on top of Patrick, never wanting to move. Patrick pulled out, and rolled Pete so he was lying on his back. He then got up and went to grab a washcloth and dispose of the condom. Pete sighed when he returned, cleaning up their mess. He managed to get up long enough to crawl under the covers, cuddling with his boyfriend.

Patrick reached up and stroked Pete’s hair, the snow still falling. After what seemed like an hour, Patrick asked, “Should we stop it?”

“Nah,” Pete replied. “Let it snow.”

Patrick chuckled, and they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Pete woke late the next day, glad that it was Monday and that the store was closed. He ached from the night before, in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. It made Pete smile, and he wanted to curl up and go right back to sleep. But he could hear sound coming from the living room, and Patrick wasn’t in bed with him. The snow had stopped falling, though when that had happened, Pete couldn’t say.

He crawled out of bed, and found that Patrick was sitting at the table in the kitchen, writing in a notebook. He was biting his lip, clearly concentrating on what he was doing. When Pete approached, he looked up and smiled. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” Pete replied, and leaned over and kissed Patrick’s hair. “What’re you doing?”

“Organizing,” Patrick replied. “I had an idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I think you were right and we should start with something small and simple. So I think that I might have the formula to blend our magics.”

Pete sat at the table with him, and looked over Patrick’s notes. He’d come up with several rhythms, and also a goal for the spell.

“Flowers?” Pete asked with amusement.

He blushed. “I was inspired.”

“Well, pulling flowers from nowhere is a trick most Charmers learn as a beginner.” Pete grinned at him.

“Could you come up with something based off this?”

Pete twisted his lips a bit, then nodded. “I’m sure I could. Give me an hour. Also breakfast would probably not go amiss.”

“I’m on it.” Patrick got up and set to work in the kitchen, while Pete dragged the notebook closer and got to work.

He knew exactly what kind of flowers he was going to write about. He’d never really forgotten the image of that flower crown on Patrick’s head. Though he’d been annoyed with Andrews for giving it to him, Patrick had looked adorable with flowers in his hair. The carnations and daisies had suited him. Pete smiled a little as he remembered, and drew on that memory to write his poem.

An hour later, there wasn’t much of a mention of flowers. And Pete wasn’t perfectly happy with it. But he handed the paper to Patrick, who handed him a plate in return.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Patrick said.

“What?”

“Skip eating to write, that’s not a good habit.”

Pete snorted. “Now you tell me.” But there was no heat behind it. Patrick smiled sheepishly, then began reading. Pete had already committed every word to memory. He knew he was in love, and this was true love. He wanted Patrick to know it too. It would help them combine their magic. As Patrick read, Pete studied his face. He had memorized every word, and could tell exactly which ones Patrick was reacting to. In his mind, he went over it.

Golden hair and golden smiles aren’t all I  
See in you. In cobalt eyes there lurks a  
Deep pain, that any clever man would spy.  
Gentle are the flower petals as they  
Rain around us, caressing your cheeks and  
Lips. The daisies and carnations, pale as  
Your skin, are delicate against your hand.  
I feel our time will never end, whereas  
You have more sense than I. But still we know  
We have survived wounds and scars to be here.  
None may ever question our love, or show  
Cause for us to part. They may disappear  
From our lives. As I love you most of all,  
I know you love me. As the flowers fall.

Patrick read it several times, and looked up at Pete in astonishment.

“Is this…”

“It’s about us,” Pete said honestly, taking a bite from the pancakes Patrick had made. He was very casual about it, but his heart was in his throat. He wasn’t sure how Patrick would feel. Pete watched his eyes dart across the page, his heart in his throat. And then Patrick looked up, almost seeming lost.

“You… Pete, this is beautiful.”

“And I mean every word.”

Patrick got up, walked around the table, and kissed Pete. For his part, Pete smiled and kissed him back. He ran his fingers through Patrick’s hair, and when they broke the kiss, Patrick said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Patrick took the sonnet, and went into the living room. Pete could hear him strumming on his guitar, and as much as he wanted to watch Patrick’s creative process, he knew he had to eat something. If they were going to attempt the spell, then Pete would need his strength.  


They’d chosen just after sunset for the spell. Pete had easily turned part of the living room into a patch of dirt, one that Patrick was staring at nervously. Patrick in turn had vanished the furniture; it would return once they had finished and cleaned up their mess. And it would get messy.

“We don’t have to wear special robes for this, do we?” Patrick had asked, and Pete shook his head.

“Nah. For this, it’s better to be comfortable,” Pete had told him. He waved his hand, and two matching poufs appeared next to the soil. Pete sat on one, and Patrick on the other. Pete could smell the earth, and sweat, and he could practically feel Patrick’s nerves. “Are you sure about this?” Pete asked again.

Patrick nodded, saying, “I’m sure.”

Pete nodded, and said, “All right, let’s do this.”

They sat cross legged, and took each other’s hands. Pete let out a breath, and pictured his tension flowing out of him. He knew Patrick would be doing the same. They had talked about how this would work, and the first step was getting in synch with each other. Pete focused on his breathing, until it matched Patrick’s.

Patrick squeezed his hand, and Pete knew that was the signal. He began to hum, the words he’d written earlier circling through his thoughts. Patrick was humming as well, and the magic began to build.

Pete could see it in his mind. He could see their energies, their auras as some called it. Pete’s was red, it had always been red. With his passionate, energetic, and sometimes unstable personality, how could it be any other color? And then there was Patrick, who was calm, calculated, but sad. It was no surprise to Pete that Patrick was blue.

He could see their magic feeling each other, testing the waters as it were. Things started to look purple in some areas, a vibrant shade of purple that Pete thought was beautiful. He squeezed Patrick’s hand, the second signal. The two opened their mouths, and began to sing.

Pete’s power had always been in his words, and everyone knew he was a terrible singer. But singing with Patrick, it didn’t matter. The magic was building, Pete saw it in his head, and even if he couldn’t he certainly could feel it. It was growing, moving over every inch of their skin, then moving through the room.

As it grew, Pete saw more flashes of purple. Places where their energies were coming together, melding into something new and wonderful. They kept singing, and singing, and the magic flowed. They crashed into each other like waves, or gently combined themselves like a stream flowing into a river.

After the third round of the song, all Pete could see was purple. He and Patrick squeezed hands at the same time, the last signal. They concentrated their energy on the dirt, picturing seeds, making them grow, and eventually bloom. Pete could smell flowers, he could FEEL they’d been successful. When they stopped singing, and opened their eyes, Pete expected to see a garden.

But when he turned his head, there was nothing. The earth wasn’t disturbed, and there wasn’t even a hint of a daisy.

“Well shit,” Pete mumbled, and looked at Patrick.

Patrick was breathing a little heavily, and he said, “I thought it was going to work.”

Pete frowned, and leaned closer to the dirt. His frown however, turned into a grin. “Look at this.” He pushed some of the dirt aside, to reveal a tiny, green sprout. Patrick moved closer to inspect it.

“That’s it?”

“That’s pretty damned good,” said Pete. He sat up straight again, making Patrick look at him. “Blending is incredibly difficult and nearly impossible. Those who do manage it are rarely successful on their first try. This? This is fucking amazing.”

Patrick looked at the little sprout again, then smiled at Pete and kissed him. “You’re amazing.”

“Nah, that’s you, don’t lie,” Pete said offhandedly, and Patrick shook his head.

“No, really, you’re amazing. You knew this might not work. Or that something could go wrong, and you did it with me anyway. I trusted you, and you trusted me. And we made this.” He was grinning, and it was infectious. “Thanks Pete.”

“You’re welcome, Patrick.” And they kissed.

* * *

 

Pete had decided to throw a party to celebrate two things. The first being the graduation of his students from the poetry magic workshop. The second was that Patrick was officially moving in with him. And where better to have the party than Prince Charmer’s? Pete had invited everyone he knew, and some people he didn’t know because it was a party, after all.

He’d been circulating to make sure everyone was having a good time, and it was pretty clear they were. Victoria had taken Ryan in the back somewhere, and Pete suspected yet another workplace romance. Pete briefly worried about how it would turn out, and hoped he wouldn’t have to institute a “no public displays of affection” rule for the staff. He wouldn’t be able to obey that rule himself, but it was the principle of the thing.

Ryan, however, in his haste to abscond with Victoria, had left his dragon behind. A dragon who was currently engaged in an aerial war with the Grimalkin Bird. As the dragon was now about the same size as a cat and both could fly, it was nearly an even match. The only problem was the Grimalkin Bird couldn’t breathe fire, however it had very sharp teeth and claws. Pete had very quietly cast a fire proofing spell just in case.

Pete passed by Travie, who was regaling Brendon’s friend Spencer and a girl Pete didn't know with a tale about cursed graffiti art he’d seen when he was a child. Both were staring in fascination as Travie spoke, and Pete had to admire his storytelling abilities. Travie gave Pete a wave as he passed, and Spencer and Lolo smiled at him and congratulated him on a good party.

He saw that Laura Jane was speaking with a group of red elves, likely about trans rights and  the magical community. They were listening intently and nodding along, and Pete would have bet anything that before the night was over they’d invite her to speak at their next gathering. As he passed, one of the elves slipped a small flower to Pete. He knew it was a token of goodwill, and Pete accepted it gratefully.

He’d been so wrapped up with that he’d nearly tripped over the goblins he’d invited, who ignored his clumsiness on their way to greet Halsey and Hayley. The two girls were excitedly showing them their notebooks, and the goblins were exclaiming over their spells. Next to them, Supreme Andrews was enjoying a cup of mead, her silver hair catching the light. She briefly raised her goblet to Pete, and he nodded in return.

Bebe was in the book loft, laughing with Lolo who was playing DJ for the night. They’d announced last week they were finally getting married, and Pete had said he wanted to be maid of honor. Bebe had teased him about it, telling Pete he couldn’t possibly fit in the dress she’d picked out for the bridesmaids.

Pete was about to go upstairs to say hello, but he was briefly distracted by the dragon flying by his head. When he could focus again, he saw a couple sitting on the stairs. It was Daisy, and with her was Gabe’s ex, Bill. He was saying something into her ear, and whatever it was, it made her laugh. She looked happy, and for that Pete was very grateful.

“Hey!” Gabe yelled, clapping Pete on the back. “Congratulations man!”

“Hey, congratulate them,” he said, gesturing to his students. Brendon approached, a grin on his face as well. “Good work, string bean.”

“You too. You know, you’re actually a pretty good teacher,” said Brendon.

“You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I’ve worked here for two years and I know you. Why shouldn’t I be surprised?”

Pete looked at him, then busted up laughing. He punched Gabe in the shoulder and said, “You’re a terrible influence on him.”

“Good,” Gabe replied, then leaned over and kissed Brendon. “Good little boys are so last year. Speaking of, where’s YOUR good little boy?”

Pete didn’t have to look to know. Since they’d performed the spell, Pete could always sense Patrick’s general location. He looked back, seeing him talking with Andy and Joe. Patrick was flushed, and clearly telling a very involved story as there were a lot of hand gestures. Andy and Joe were listening intently, and then they both laughed when Patrick slapped his hands together. He felt his heart swell. It made Pete happy, that Patrick was so happy.

Gabe snapped his fingers in front of Pete’s face. “Hey, space cadet, everything okay?”

A smile bloomed on Pete’s face. “Yeah. Everything’s great.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://talkingcinemalight.tumblr.com/)
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> [My compliment creator's Tumblr](http://das-verlorene-kind.tumblr.com/)


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